


The Problem with Ghosts

by Kadira



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: A Christmas Carol, Christmas fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-19
Updated: 2006-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadira/pseuds/Kadira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus hates Christmas. And ghosts. He hates it even more when both comes together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stage 1

**Author's Note:**

> An Eroica Christmas fic that is is loosely based and inspired by Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol

______________  
 **Stage 1**  
______________

  
Klaus' last thought before he hit the ground and his world turned black was that his indifference towards Christmas and other assorted holidays had just turned into plain aversion. 

His first thought, when he opened his eyes again, was surprise that he indeed did so, then a colourful curse as he remembered the utter failure of his mission, followed by how much he disliked Christmas. Or any holiday for that matter. Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach decided that he would probably like it better if the scum of the world would take the day off as well, but since that wasn't the case as he could see for himself once more, he could gladly do without that day.

From far away, an indefinable torrent of words assaulted his brain and strained his nerves even further. With some effort, he tried to sit up, to find the source of the noise so that he could put an end to it. It didn't work, and he fell back onto the bed, a heartfelt, very pained groan on his lips, as a sharp sting coursed through his whole body at the slight movement.

"No. No, Major Eberbach," a soft voice scolded him. When his world came into focus again, he could make out a young nurse. "You can't move yet. You don't want to risk opening your wound again, do you?"

Klaus wanted to ask just what the hell was going on, why the fuck breathing was so difficult and why his whole body seemed to be on fire, but his speech centre refused to cooperate with his brain, at least in a timely manner, so all he managed to voice was an embarrassing string of groans that didn't make any sense at all and only added to his general annoyance.

The nurse looked down at him, smiling "Just sleep, Major. You're safe here and once you wake up, you'll feel much better."

Klaus just wanted to tell her that he certainly wouldn't feel better as long as he was stuck here, but thinking became exceedingly difficult. It almost felt as if somebody had flooded his brain with some thick liquid, drowning his every thought before it could even really form. Alarmed, he grabbed the arm of the nurse, trying to prevent her from doing whatever she was doing with the infusion. "Don't worry, Major Eberbach. It's just something against the pain. It will help you to sleep."

He didn't need anything to sleep. He didn't _want_ to sleep! In fact, he didn't even want to be here, and as soon as he was out of here, he would find that damned IRA terrorist and give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Just wait," he murmured, somewhere caught between dream and reality, doubtlessly the result of the medicine that had been forced upon him.

"And what for?"

Klaus jumped up as he heard the voice so close to his ear, suddenly very much awake. Frantically, he clutched his chest with one hand, as he looked around, trying to ignore the wave of pain and nausea the movement had brought about.

He couldn't see anybody. "Who ... what? Show yourself!" he demanded.

"Ups. I have to apologize. I forgot that you can't see me. See, I'm pretty new in the business, so such mistakes can happen. In fact, you're my first real case."

Klaus' mind was curiously blank as he starred at the sudden lightshow in front of his bed. First so bright that it made his eyes tear, then slowly taking on every colour under the rainbow before, ever so slowly, a figure manifested out of it. Early twenty, female -- and very nude, Klaus realized, not understanding anything.

The naked woman looked at him, curiously. Only she wasn't really a woman, because normal women weren't see-through, not even when nude. At least as far as he knew. Women normally didn't run around without any clothes either. Nor did they appear out of such a light spectacle.

 _Normally_.

"I imagined you differently after everything I've heard about the great Iron Klaus. I have to say that I'm a bit disappointed. Where's your infamous wit?"

"I ... Who sent you? The SVR? NIS? Mossad?" Klaus finally brought out. The involvement of a foreign Intelligence was the only possible explanation for this utterly bizarre situation. "What do you want here? From me?"

"Only one right," the woman said, before making herself comfortable on his bed. "I want something from you, but nobody sent me. Most people can't even see me, certainly not if I don't allow it."

"Who are you?"

" _What_ would be the right question, my dear Major!" she said, smiling brightly. Much to Klaus' horror, she jumped onto the bed, spread her arms and turned around in circles, showing him more than Klaus ever wanted to see. Aghast, he drew his legs up, building up a barrier between them.

"I don't care what you are, just get out of here and leave me alone. Or at least get dressed! Nobody should behave this way!" he said, voice much more steady than before. "It's inappropriate and disgusting!"

The woman stopped in her movement and made a face. "So the rumours are true? Too bad ..."

"What rumours?" Klaus demanded just as the woman snipped with her fingers and was suddenly clothed in a red dress. Still much too short, but it was better than nothing, especially in the current situation, Klaus decided.

"Just rumours that you're not interested at all in my kind," she said, almost sadly.

"Whatever your kind is."

"Women! I'm talking about _women_! They can do what they want, but it is absolutely hopeless, even if they manage to get your attention! You are only interested in them as long as they're part of your mission. It's a real pity," his unwanted companion said, and suddenly, even before Klaus had seen her moving, she was at his side, one very cold hand stroking over his cheek, then through his hair, playing with it.

"How dare you?" Klaus snapped, slapping her hand away. Or tried to do so, because there was no solid flesh, just icy air. He withdrew his hand as if he had burned himself. A dream. This must be it. The only thing that made sense and could explain transparent women that suddenly turned up in his room, molesting and annoying him. "Don't touch me!"

"Are you not in the slightest curious just what I am and why I'm here? Or have you figured that out already?" the woman asked, sitting once more down on his bed.

"It's a dream. Nothing is supposed to make sense in a dream. I will wake up any moment and you won't be here anymore."

The woman chuckled and stroked a strand of translucent brown hair out of her face. "It's not that easy, Major. Of course, you will try to explain it away. They warned me that you refuse to believe things that can't be proven. But humour me. There's no harm after all, if it is just a dream. What am I?"

For a moment, Klaus thought to refuse, but then just shook his head. His uninvited dream visitor obviously had no desire to leave him alone, so he could just as well play along until he woke up. But he would complain. Medicine that caused such disturbance, even painkillers, couldn't be approved of. "A fairy? A ghost?"

"Bingo!" the small woman jumped up and down, obviously very excited. "I'm a ghost!"

"Good for you. Now that we have cleared that - you can take your leave, I hope."

The ghost woman frowned. "Not that fast. We are not in a quiz show after all. My job is a different one."

"And what would that be? Annoying people who try to rest? And why I'm talking to you anyway? Just go away," Klaus grumbled then determined turned around and closed his eyes. The only thing he hated more than interference in his job was being sick. And the only thing he hated more than being bedridden was not being in control of a situation, even when it came to his dreams. In fact, during the last years he had come to hate dreaming, ever since a certain English pervert had somehow managed to creep even into them.

"Ah, but normal dreams would be boring, wouldn't it? Or would you rather prefer to dream about a certain Englishman? It wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

Instinctively, Klaus hand went under his pillow, the place where he normally hid his gun when he was asleep. No such luck. Of course not. Instead, disregarding his physical state, Klaus took his pillow and threw it after the ghost. "Just shut up!"

"Or what? You'll kill me? A ghost?" Her laugh made Klaus' skin crawl. "Maybe, if it weren't so late already, we could try that to waste some time. It could be amusing," she said, then crocked her head as if listening to something. "Do you hear that?"

"What I'm supposed to hear apart from your chattering?"

The woman frowned. "You are quite annoying, you know that? More so than people say. And very uptight. Overall, you're the most frustrating exemplar of the human race I have ever encountered -- living and dead."

For a moment, Klaus could just stare at her. He blamed the pain in his chest for his inability to come up with a fitting retort. Being shot had the tendency to do strange, unwelcome things to a person after all. And the situation. It was not every day that he had to talk to a ghost and Klaus had to admit that he felt a bit light-headed. In the end, he just shook his head and said, "Go to hell."

"I certainly hope not so. But even so that wouldn't be possible, I'm afraid. Not yet. You are my job, after all."

"Your job ...,"Klaus stopped as he heard some faint noise. Not like the torrent of voices and words from before, but single tones. They begun to build up on each other, became louder, more insisting (and annoying), until, Klaus realized suddenly, they connected and turned into a melody. Not just any, but _Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht_ , a Christmas song. Klaus groaned, regretting very much that he had thrown his pillow away and so couldn't even burry his head in it now to shut out the music. "Or at least wake up ..."

"Not going to happen, Major, so just accept it. You might even enjoy it."

"What am I supposed to enjoy?" Klaus demanded and struggled to sit up. He glared at the ghost as a fresh wave of pain coursed through his body.

"How should I explain that ...," she murmured while her form rapidly changed colours, seemingly in rhythm to the music, which had become louder, too. Klaus wondered if one could get a headache in dreams. If yes, he sensed one very near by. He almost startled when that annoying woman-ghost suddenly jumped up, smiling brightly. That smile was even more disturbing than her lightshow.

"What?" he asked. His voice was hard, but Klaus couldn't shake off a highly unpleasant feeling of foreboding. He knew that feeling only too well, had in fact become very acquainted with it during the last few years, ever since that gloomy day when that wanker had shown up at his doorsteps and had jumped into his life. It was Klaus' inner alarm that started to ring whenever the looming danger in form of that pervert was near. That he wasn't here only showed that something equally disastrous was on the way, and Klaus wished once more that he could just wake up. Preferably now, before that ghost could say anything more. He wasn't to be that lucky. Of course not. Klaus grimaced.

"Ah Major, there's no need for that gloomy look. On the contrary. You have won the main prize! A one in the lifetime chance!" She paused, probably for a dramatic effect.

Klaus would have appreciated it more, if he had been more mobile or if he would have had his gun at hand at least, and if the other one would have been, well, more human. Since neither was at his disposal at the moment, he just straightened up and said, "I decline. Whatever it is, I don't want it."

"How can you say that, Major," she said, voice a theatrical whine that awoke the strong urge within Klaus to test if she was indeed dead already. "In any case," her mood and voice changed rapidly from whiny to cheerful, "you don't have any say in it. The decision isn't yours. Tonight," her voice became louder, so that Klaus had no problems to understand her even over the still swelling music, "you'll have the pleasure -- or maybe displeasure, depending on your point of view -- to be visited by three ghosts, who will show you the past, present and future Christmas," she said, voice suddenly echoing all around him. It was quite an unsettling experience, he had to admit, especially to the _Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh_ // _Sleep in heavenly peace_ , that suddenly seemed to mingle with her words and the lightshow.

If Klaus had to be honest, that heavenly sleep was all he wished for right now, preferably without strange dreams. It took him quite a bit of effort, to regain his composure after that display. That was it, no more classics for him. Dreaming about ghosts was one thing, but reinterpreting Christmas stories was an entirely different one. "Let me guess, you're the ghost of the long past Christmas?" he asked, resigned.

"No, I'm the ghost of --"

"Ja, ja. _My_ past, I know that. I have read Dickens," Klaus said, impatiently.

"Ah, Dickens. That man is a legend in our realm. Our visit has inspired him so much that he dedicated a whole book to us. It's quite flattering."

"So you are saying that 'A Christmas Carol' isn't just the result of too much alcohol and too much time on hands? Too bad."

"You didn't always think this way. There was a time when you even looked forward to it, when it was part of your Christmas tradition. Every year after church and before dinner your mother would read it to you under the Christmas tree. It seems, my visit was long overdue. You sure need a reminder."

Klaus scowled. "My memory is good enough. I don't need any reminders, certainly not from a bloody ghost, so just sod off!"

"I'm afraid that isn't possible ...," and with that she snapped with her fingers. Before Klaus could react in any way, he felt the music becoming even louder than before, to the point that it seemed to pierce him, making him feel more dizzy than the pain in his chest, until he was sure he would lose consciousness.

But before that could happen, the sensation stopped and he found himself on the ground, cursing at the pain that run through his body. "I have to apologize. I still need some training when it comes to that. But it could have been a lot worse," the ghost said, seemingly oblivious to Klaus' temper, which was dangerously close to the edge.

"I doubt that. And now take me home!"

"In fact, this was my first somehow successful arrival. The last time there was this wall in the way ..."

"You have to be a very incompetent ghost then," Klaus stated as he came to his feet, for a moment staggering so much that he had to seek support at the cold, dark stonewall. The very _familiar_ cold, dark stonewall. Even in the early winter darkness, there was no doubt that he was at Schloss Eberbach, . His family's castle and his home since, well, the day he had been born.

"Of course, it would only have been unpleasant for you. I can go through walls, but you're a soul that is still bound to its body and so restricted to physical law. Charles ... well, let's say he exaggerated a bit."

"He lied," Klaus stated, absently, his main focus still on the wall. The stones loomed dark into the sky, the tip of the north tower melting with the darkness. Nothing unusual, yet something here made him remember the fascination and chill he had felt when he had spent the first night out, just two years old. Alone, of course without the approval of anybody, he had waited for the _Weihnachtsmann_ , to get even the smallest glimpse of him, or maybe even just the red nose of Rudolf.

Klaus smiled wistfully as the memories overcame him.

"It's called creative license."

"An over active imagination, rather," Klaus corrected her as they entered the yard.

"He was an artist. It's a requirement for people like him. From what I've heard, your British friend is the same, so you should know about that."

Klaus grimaced. Dor--, no, Eroica. Trust him to stalk him even in his dreams. That degenerate just couldn't leave him alone. "Your information is wrong. He's neither my friend nor an artist. He's a thief and a pain in the arse."

"If you say so, Major ..."

Klaus turned around, glaring. The woman just looked at him, smiling innocently. His eyes narrowed. "This is my dream, isn't it? So I don't want to talk about him." Hell, he didn't even want to _think_ about him, certainly not more than he had to, which was whenever they crossed paths (which again was far too often for Klaus' taste), and then some. "So don't mention him again!"

"As you wish, Major. But if you're still convinced that you're dreaming, you should ask yourself why you think about him even then."

"Easy. Because he can never leave me alone!" Klaus said.

"He must have some amazing power, if he can even control your dreams. But you are right; we are not here to talk about your relationship. W--"

"We don't have a relationship!"

The woman lifted her hands in an appeasing gesture. "Whatever you say, Major. It's not on me to talk about your present anyway. I'm here for your past, and time is running short, I fear. My companion is already getting ready for you, so let's continue."

Since everything was better than thinking about that pervert, Klaus kept silent and followed the ghost. It seemed much easier than to protest. So far nothing he had said had made any difference, so just going along until the medicine wore off and he could wake up was probably the easiest and fastest way to get over with this.

They stopped in front of the window from the dining room. Unlike usually however, the room was lit by countless candles, which dipped everything in a warm, inviting light.

The biggest light source came from the huge Christmas tree in the right corner, near the fireplace that warmed the room additionally. Even staying here, outside, and even after all those years Klaus thought he could smell the fire and feel the warmth of its flames. He had always loved it, especially around this time of the year. There was nothing like coming home from playing, almost frozen, then sitting in front of the fire, drinking hot chocolate, reading, or listening to his father and grandfather talking about their adventures in the field. It had been a special time, one Klaus had always cherished. Of course, that had stopped just as abruptly as most such things when his mother had died.

Klaus shook his head, forced down all the unwelcome feelings that accompanied these thoughts. It wasn't something he cared to think about further. Not then, not now. In the past everybody had told him that he was a big boy now and that he should behave accordingly to it, and what his mother might think if she could see him cry. Even young as he had been then, Klaus had learned that his life had changed in more ways than he could possibly start to grasp after her death and had adjusted to it, had locked away these memories for when he had time to look at them and to cherish them.

It had never really come to that. There had been school, him fulfilling his father's expectations, then the army, followed by NATO. Somehow it had been inappropriate to think about his mother and the past while trying to rid the earth of scum.

"Look," the ghost said, cutting into his line of thoughts. Klaus was more grateful for it than he would ever admit.

The scene in front of Klaus had changed. The previous empty room was now buzzing with life as people -- their staff at that time, Klaus realized -- prepared the table for the big dinner. But that was not everything. In the corner, Klaus saw himself, sitting in front of the Christmas tree, admiring the colourful presents, which wouldn't be opened before the whole family was together and they had eaten.

He remembered how torturous the wait always had been. So close yet still so far away. Klaus couldn't suppress a smile, as his younger self crept forward to the pile of presents. He wouldn't have dared to open them then, but there had always been a chance that he could feel what was in them. It had been half the fun. And sometimes he even was right, like the time his father had given him a miniature wooden model of his favourite tank.

This time he wasn't that lucky. Before he could even reach out for the presents, Hinkel showed up behind him. His younger self turned around to the butler, startled, when he cleared his throat. Even with the thick walls and windows swallowing every sound and keeping it inside, Klaus knew exactly what was said. "Young Master!" Hinkel scolded him. "You can't do that yet. You know the rules!" And when Klaus looked chastised enough, give him a cookie or two, made by his own mother especially for the young Master Eberbach.

The scene changed again once the table was set, and suddenly Klaus realized they had exchanged the cold for the warmth in the castle. The room laid in silence that was only enchanted by the crackling of the fire, and him turning the pages of the book he was currently reading. "Your father will have his business finished soon and then join us." His young self turned around to the source of the voice.

Klaus felt like suffocating for a moment as he recognized the woman. There was no mistaken her. She looked just the same as in the pictures his father still had on his bedside table and in his study. Almost a head smaller than his father, slender, but with a presence that just couldn't be ignored and was very fitting for a woman of the Eberbach family. Her long, dark-blond hair curled slightly, highlighting her soft features and enchanting her green eyes, the same eyes Klaus could see whenever he looked into the mirror.

His younger self made a face. It was not that he was complaining per se, because even then Klaus had understood that his father's business was very important and came before everything else, but it meant that the wait would take even longer. "But why today?" he said, voice strained.

His mother sat down beside him on the ground in front of the fire. "Because your father has to take care that the bad people won't ruin Christmas for the good people, and that we all will stay safe. It's a very important duty. "

Young Klaus looked contemplative into the flames. For a moment, they both remained silent, then Klaus asked her, "Are there many bad people out there?"

"Unfortunately, too many," his mother said. "But don't you worry, dear. Your father will make sure that they won't hurt us. He is a real hero."

In his mind Klaus answered seconds before his three-year-old self did. It was a talk he'd never forgotten. Not only had it been their last Christmas before his mother had fallen sick, but it had been a talk that had decided his future. "When I'm grown up, I will help him to catch the bad people."

His mother smiled. "Of course, you will, Klaus," she just said, voice serious. "Now, how about our Christmas story while we wait for your father?"

"'A Christmas Carol'?" he asked, excited.

"Of course," she said. "Wait here. I will go and get the book."

Klaus turned away from the scene when his mother kissed him on his hair. "That's ridiculous," he said; voice just a tad too unsteady. He didn't need or even want to see more. He knew perfectly well what would happen next, how his mother would read to him, followed by them all sitting down at the table where his father would cut the roast goose.

The memories were just as vivid as the ones of his mother's insistence that they gather around the piano after dinner, to sing Christmas songs before opening the gifts, or as the sound of her warm laugh when his father's half-heartedly protested. She won, of course, like always. As far as Klaus could remember, he had never been able to refuse her anything. Martina von dem Eberbach was the only weakness his father ever had.

"Take me back," Klaus said, ignoring the scrutinizing gaze of the ghost. He had seen more than enough.

"Just when it gets interesting? Oh, you are a spoilsport, Major."

"If you don't take me back now, I will make you regret that you ever came to me," Klaus pressed out between clenched teeth. He had no idea what he would do, seeing that this ... thing in front of him hardly was human, but he would come up with something. Ghost or not. He was resourceful after all.

The ghost looked at him for a moment, then, much to Klaus' relief, nodded. "Very well. My job here seems to be done and we don't have time anymore anyway."

Before Klaus could congratulate her to a decision that would ensure her continuous wellbeing, she snapped with her fingers, and Klaus' world turned once more black.


	2. Stage 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus hates Christmas. And ghosts. He hates it even more when both comes together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Eroica Christmas fic that is is loosely based and inspired by Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol

______________

**Stage 2  
** ______________

  
With a jolt, Klaus opened his eyes and sat up. His heart was racing as he looked around. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary in the bare hospital room, he settled down again, forcing himself to relax. A dream. Just a stupid dream. Nothing more. Of course not. There were no ghosts, certainly not ones that had jumped straight out of a Dickens' novel.  
  
With a sigh, he laid back onto his bed. Even the pillow was in place again. Just another proof that this had been nothing more than a very vivid and bizarre dream, most likely increased by the shock of being shot and the medicaments. Nothing more.  
  
Klaus felt a laugh building up within him, slowly but steadily finding a way out. He should only be glad that nobody else was here. He could just imagine his subordinates when they saw him in such a state. He would have become the laughing stock of their department. Rightly so, even. Now, awake, he felt silly that he had even for a moment considered it for being real.  
  
A chuckle escaped him, first low, then stronger, until he was loudly laughing. Not even the renewed pain in his chest could stop him.  
  
"Not that I really expected anything else, but most people are not in such high spirits after the first phase of their journey. It should make the next stop even more interesting." Klaus' laugh froze in his throat, almost choking him, as his eyes fell on the form that had suddenly appeared in front of his bed.  
  
A nun. Klaus stared at her. "Who are you?" he asked, once he had regained his breath. "And what do you want?"  
  
The nun looked at him, almost scrutinizing. "I suppose it would have been too much hope that you would recognize me," she sighed. "You were very young, after all. Kindergarten, the first years."  
  
Klaus eyes widened as realization set in. There was no mistaking anymore the sturdy nun. Sister Braun, his kindergarten teacher, at least until that accident in his last year. "But, that can't be ... You're dead ..."  
  
And suddenly Klaus felt that he might soon follow her. He wondered how many more shocks he could take before he would get the heart attack he had felt looming already before.  
  
"Has the cat eaten your tongue, Klaus? I don't remember you ever being this silent before," she said, her tone disapproving. "If I wouldn't know better, I'd think you're the dead one, not me."  
  
Just like he remembered her. Resolute, tough, and, despite her strictness, his favourite teacher. She had also been the only one who had taken the time to understand him after his mother's death and so had turned kindergarten into a refugee from a home that had suddenly become very cold and lonely, despite his father's desperate attempts.  
  
"I ... you are dead!"  
  
"That's a rather redundant statement," she chided him. "If I weren't dead, I wouldn't be here now."  
  
"But ...," he began, then shook his head. "I haven't woken up yet. It's still a dream, nothing more," he said, voice firm, as if trying to convince himself, maybe hoping that the ghost image of his old teacher would vanish if he would just repeat it often enough. "And the drugs. I'm delirious, that's all. You are not really here. You can't be here."  
  
"That is just like you. You never believed in things that couldn't be rationally explained. A very admirable trait, certainly important in your line of business, but I assure you, I'm really here. It's just as Florence explained to you."  
  
"Florence?"  
  
"The young woman, your first guide."  
  
Klaus nodded, not understanding anything at all. Yet, like in the past, he believed the nun. She had never lied to him and wouldn't start now, no matter the situation. She could have told him she was an angel and Klaus probably would have believed her.  
  
"I got shot," he said, almost absently. "But I can't be dead. I couldn't just go through walls..."  
  
"No, you're far from dead," Sister Braun said, laughing. It was the same rich sound like in the past, warming and calming. It had the same effect now, which, Klaus thought, was quite amazing considering that he was talking to a ghost here and in such a strange situation. "The bullet missed your heart. Not by much and you lost a lot of blood, but thanks to the fast reaction of your two subordinates and your stubbornness, you will survive. In fact, in a few more minutes, you won't even be in a critical condition anymore."  
  
"G and B ...," Klaus murmured.  
  
She nodded. "They were frantic for worry. They are good men. Though, your B could do with a new haircut. All these curls and then such a haircut...," she said with the same small nose wrinkle she had in the past whenever she'd disapproved of something. "But we should go now. Time is running out fast. I'm not your last visitor after all. Ready?"  
  
"Wait! Where are we? It's can't be the hospital. And why me, why now?"  
  
"You are still as curious and insisting as always. I always liked that. It was a sure sign that you would make your way. I was right," Sister Braun said, smiling fondly at him, like the time he had told her that he would become a spy. "But your questions are more complicated now and we don't have much time left. Just see it as some kind of special level that is part of your world, in which everything is possible, even for us to interact with the living. As for your why ... it was necessary and the time was just there. That is all I can say. You will understand it later. That's what we hope at least," she said and Klaus noted that her voice had become almost grave during the last sentence. "We really need to go now. But don't worry, if everything goes accordingly to plan, all your questions will be answered in due time. Follow me."  
  
It didn't even occur Klaus to resist, and not just because he was still busy trying to make sense out of the words. He waited for the eerie sensation from before, and so was almost startled, when they just went out of the door. "Wasn't that a bit unspectacular? I mean after ..."  
  
"Your journey into your past? Of course, but we are not going that far. We will stay in the present, so you'll have to use your feet for now, I'm afraid. You didn't hurt them as well, did you? So they should work just fine."  
  
Klaus stared at her for a moment, then grinned. "They work perfectly fine. I was just surprised. And relieved. I can't say I enjoyed that. Lead the way on, Sister."  
  
"I'm glad you regained some of your adventurous spirit. However," Klaus yelped in surprise as a cold hand hit him on the back of his head, awaking memories of his childhood, "you are as rebellious as always. What are you supposed to call me?" she asked, voice stern.  
  
"You haven't changed much either. I'm not a child anymore," Klaus complained, absently rubbing his head. "That was cold."  
  
"Of course, I haven't changed. I'm dead. I'm supposed to stay the same. And of course my hand is cold. Have you ever seen a warm corpse? And you'll always be a boy to me, especially if you behave like one. So?"  
  
Klaus sighed. " _Schwester Braun_ ," he said then, knowing very well how futile it would be to engage in a discussion with the nun. There was a strange comfort in the fact that death wasn't the end of all means and that some things never seem to change.  
  
The stout woman beamed at him. "Much better," then straightened up. "Now come. The night won't last forever. We only have a few more minutes left for our first stop." And with that she hurried along the white corridor of the hospital, not even giving Klaus the slightest chance of asking what that first stop might be.  
  
He got his answer a few minutes later, when they, after a fast run ended up in front of the chapel. His eyes narrowed. That wasn't exactly what he had expected. Nevertheless, he followed his former teacher, now ghost, inside the candle-lit hall. They past the first rows and the people sitting there, seeking solace in prayer, then followed the main passage until almost the front.  
  
"Look," Sister Braun pointed at the first row. There, one beside the other, sat his alphabets. Not just G and B, but all twenty-six of them, plus the Director. Even A, whom he had granted vacation, to spend some more time with his wife, and Z who was supposed to visit family somewhere. In hushed voices they were talking, some of them with less than steady voices.  
  
"The Doctor said the next few hours will decide over everything."  
  
"Of course he won't die. He can't die."  
  
"Not the Major."  
  
"He should never have taken that mission. It's Christmas, after all!"  
  
And similar sentences, emphasized by G's crying.  
  
"What are they doing here? They should be home, celebrating Christmas!" Klaus said, torn between confusion and anger.  
  
"Most of them were home, but rushed to the hospital as soon as they heard what happened."  
  
"That's absolutely stupid! Somebody should order them to go home! Why didn't the Director say something?"  
  
"They are here because they want to be here."  
  
Klaus didn't pay any more attention to her, but marched up to the row and positioned himself in front of his subordinates. "You bloody idiots! Your being here won't change anything! If anything, it will only make me sicker! Go home, where you're supposed to be and enjoy your holiday!"  
  
"Did somebody inform the Earl?"  
  
"He should know about that, shouldn't he?"  
  
The reaction was stunning. Not at all what he was used to. How could they just keep sitting there, ignoring him, and instead talk about calling that British Wanker?  
  
"A, you are in contact with Mister Bonham, aren't you? Is the Earl even in the country?"  
  
Klaus turned around to his guide. "They can't see me, can they?"  
  
She shook her head. "We are only here to observe, not to interfere."  
  
"What good does this do then? This is absolutely stupid! I need to talk to them. They won't listen to anybody else." Frustrated, Klaus paced in front of his alphabets, then, on his fifth round stopped in front of the Director. "And you're the biggest idiot. If I'm out of commission, it's your duty to give them orders! But instead of sending my men home and celebrating with your wife, you just have to endorse this senseless mourning as if I'm already dead. You incompetent fool! I could --"  
  
"You still have the same temper. Even in the house of god you can't restrain yourself," his former teacher said, with mild reproach. "I'm not surprised that they are scared of you. But despite your temper, they are here, worrying."  
  
"They shouldn't. It's a waste of time and energy."  
  
"Just as much as you worry about them," his former teacher continued, ignoring him.  
  
Klaus ignored her and instead observed the Director standing up. "I will go and talk to the Doctor, see if something changed," he said, before passing Klaus, then walked down the corridor.  
  
"That might work on them, but not with me. The infamous Eberbach frown didn't scare me in the past and it won't do now," Sister Braun told him when Klaus glared at her.  
  
"There must be something I can do ... You can do something. Can't ghosts get in contact with the living? Scare them so much that they'll run home."  
  
She shook her head. "We generally don't interfere with your lives."  
  
"The Major will kill us if we do that," E said. "Or at the very least send us to Alaska ..."  
  
Klaus turned his attention back to his men, wondering what he had missed now.  
  
"I don't want to go to Alaska, but maybe we should."  
  
"He would want to know..."  
  
... followed by almost meditative silence.  
  
"What are they talking about?" he demanded, turning around to the nun, who only smiled, obviously very much amused.  
  
"Pay attention instead of raving around. It will become even more interesting."  
  
Klaus couldn't shake off a feeling of foreboding.  
  
"But it has changed for the better, hasn't it? Maybe he wouldn't mind too much. Sometimes one could even think they are friends."  
  
"The Earl and the Major? Friends? I don't think so. They rather remind me of an old married couple with all their bickering."  
  
Stunned silence followed Z's statement, followed by approving, if stunned murmur.  
  
"I thought you and the Major went along so well ..."  
  
"We do. I admire him and wouldn't want to work under anybody else, but that doesn't change the obvious," Z said, with a shrug.  
  
To say that Klaus was shocked, would have been an understatement. "I ... I will send him to Alaska for that! At the very least!" he finally brought out, between clenched teeth. "How dare he saying something like that? And the rest of them as well! They shouldn't even think about me and that thief in any way! I hate him and could die happily if I would never even hear his name again!"  
  
"Obviously your men think differently," his former teacher said.  
  
"I don't care what they think! They are not supposed to think. Certainly not about ... that!"  
  
"Sometimes an outsider sees more than oneself..."  
  
"How can you talk this way?" Klaus turned around, clearly shocked. "You are ... a nun. You belong to the church. You must know that this is wrong. He is a man. It's perverted ... wrong..."  
  
The nun smiled wistfully. "I always thought you resembled more your mother than your father, but right now I have the feeling as if I'm talking with his younger self. I'm not here to tell you what is right or wrong, or to help you sorting through your feelings --"  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about. There is nothing to sort!" Klaus said, determined.  
  
"--, but I really wish that you'll find happiness, in whatever way it will be. You deserve it and you shouldn't deny it to yourself."  
  
"I really wish they would just do it and get over with it. Maybe it would clear the atmosphere enough that you could stay in the same room with them again without the feeling of suffocating in that atmosphere," G said.  
  
"Are you sure? Didn't you want the Earl for yourself?"  
  
"I do. But it's obvious that he's not interested in me or anyone else," G said, shrugging. "Anyway, are you going to call, A? One of us should do it. If you don't want, I can do it."  
  
"He will probably come right away," A said, still hesitant.  
  
"Of course. But if we tell him now instead of later, at least only one of them will be angry with us."  
  
B had a point, Klaus had to admit. Of course, none of them had even the slightest idea yet just how angry Klaus would be if they'd do it.  
  
A nodded. "I will do it then," he said, then, much to Klaus' shock, stood up.  
  
"Nonono. Don't do that!" he said, almost yelling, even tried to grab A, but his hand went straight through his subordinate's body.  
  
A shivered. "Did you feel that as well? It was suddenly cold ..."  
  
"And you have no idea just how much colder it will get, if you really do that," Klaus grumbled under his breath, which of course was ignored as well.  
  
"Wait, I'll come with you. The waiting is enervating and at least you won't be alone in Alaska then," Z said, following the other Agent.  
  
"Traitorous bunch of idiots, all of you. Just wait until I'm myself again," Klaus pressed out. Appalled and very much wishing that he could do something, anything, he watched almost half of his agents following A and Z.  
  
"Time for a change of location. But the time is too short and the distance too long, so we will need to travel my way now. Give me your hand," Sister Braun said, then, when Klaus didn't react immediately, just took it. "I'd close my eyes, if I were you. It can get quite rough."  
  
"I think I've seen more than enough for one day. Can't we just cut it short and continue with the last of you ghosts?"  
  
"If I wouldn't know you, I'd assume you want to get rid off me. But we have to finish that. Unfortunately, we don't have time for more, so this will be the last station."  
  
Klaus couldn't say that he was sad about that prospect. In fact, it couldn't end soon enough. Now that he had heard his agents, even less than before. "You shouldn't be so hard on them. They're really worried about you and try to determine what would be best."  
  
"If they would do that, they wou--"  
  
Klaus was cut off by a sudden coldness that took his breath away, followed by an even colder, very sharp wind, which gradually took on more speed and force.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
Even if the ghost would have given him a chance to say something, he doubted that he could have managed to do so. His tongue felt as frozen as the rest of his body. The only thing he could still move, where his eyes, and they closed out of their own accord when he was suddenly lifted up into the air.  
  
Yet, before he could get used to the sensation, or even discover just what he had felt and what happened, it was over. There were no words to express Klaus' gratitude when he had once more firm ground under his feet. The relief was rather short-lived however, when he discovered that the ground below his feet belonged to the property of none other than Earl Dorian Red Gloria.  
  
"All right," he said after the initial shock wore off. "That's enough. Take me back to the hospital. I've played your game long enough. I don't want to be here."  
  
"That, my dear Klaus, isn't your choice. Neither is it mine, before you blame me. Your life -- and your relationship to the Earl - is the reason we are here now."  
  
"We don't have a relationship, so we can just as well go! I don't want to be here, even less see him! Take me back! Now!" Klaus demanded, furiously.  
  
"Your paths have crossed, that's the reason you're here."  
  
"Not because of my choice. He decided to stalk and annoy me. So go and haunt him, not me!"  
  
"How old are you again?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because at the moment you certainly don't behave like I'd expect from a man in your position."  
  
Klaus felt completely out of his depth, an entire foreign and not at all welcome sensation. Well, not entire foreign, there was one other person who managed to make him feel this way, but at least Eroica was human and he could somehow deal with him. But not only was he talking here to a person he had been drilled to respect, which excluded screaming at his former teacher, much more hitting her, but also someone who had been dead for quite a few years already, even if it was hard to believe seeing and hearing her now. In any case, Klaus was at a loss, and he didn't like that one bit.  
  
In the attempt not to lose even more of his quite shaken pride, he straightened up. "Well, let's go and get it over with then." After all, what could the Earl do to him, if he couldn't even see him? And this was probably the fastest road to end that charade.  
  
"That's the right spirit!" she said, beaming at him the same way as she had done when she had praised him when he was a child. It was a disconcerting experience, at the very least, Klaus decided as he followed her towards the castle, but tried his best not to show it.  
  
"What are you afraid of?" Either ghosts had a different perception, or he was more shaken by the recent development than he wanted to belief, or, and he liked that possibility least of all, he was a very bad field agent.  
  
"I have no idea what you are talking about. I'm not afraid," he said, with an indifferent shrug, but even he couldn't ignore the sudden nuance of sharpness in his voice. "Irritated, but certainly not afraid. And what do you expect from me? I'm supposed to recover in the hospital and not to be dragged around by my kindergarten teacher, a very dead one at that, and other creatures that shouldn't even exist, for a reason that eludes me," he added. Then, deciding that it would be much better for his nerves if he'd ignore the wide grin of the ghost, passed her and marched towards the brightly lit window. "That way, I suppose?"  
  
"Your mind is as sharp as it always was," she said, almost wistfully.  
  
"We are not here to mull over the past, are we?" Klaus snapped as he came to a hold in front of the window. "You're one ghost too late for that."  
  
"Just look at that ...," he pointed at the room that was brightly lit by countless candles, which were spread all over the room. The rich decoration all over the room left no doubt at what holiday was. Klaus grimaced. It was too much and too bright, very much like the Earl himself.  
  
"That's called Christmas spirit and reflects exactly what the day means - spending it together with your loved ones. You had it, too, before you decided that it doesn't mean anything. Quite different from your own home, isn't it? All that expects you is the dark castle and a prepared dinner that you only need to warm up. Not even any of your personnel will be there. They all went home for Christmas, even your butler. "  
  
"That day doesn't mean anything. It's just a day for shops to earn even more money and for people to lounge around," Klaus said, trying very hard to keep his voice even.  
  
"Fortunately, not everyone aggress with you. He plays very good," she said, pointing at the Earl who was sitting at the piano. The thief's annoying blond curls seemed to glow in the candlelight, which, Klaus had to admit grudgingly, suited him very well. Klaus couldn't help but note that Eroica's long fingers flew with the same ease and skill over the keys, he displayed when it came to locks.  
  
His men surrounded him, singing obviously happily along to Dorian's music. Klaus didn't recognize the song, but it was obviously a Christmas carol, something about Angels and ... joyous strains. Klaus grimaced. Leave it to the Earl to pervert even a Christmas song. He just wanted to remark on it, when the tune changed, this time to something he knew only too well.  
  
 _Gloria in excelsis Deo_  
  
Klaus froze as a wave of memories took hold of him; images and sounds, even scents from long past Christmas days. He remembered the small church (before it had fallen victim to the lighting), the crowd there, his parents, his mother's happy smile, the festive atmosphere, the candles, the tiny priest, and the excitement he had felt when they had stood up for the last song.  
  
Even now he could feel the shudder he had felt as a child when the organist -- Frau Schubert, he recalled the old lady's name -- had played the first tones, followed by the chant of the whole church, not necessarily in tune, but always passionate, filling the melody with life. Klaus remembered the opulent dinner after church, sometimes just with his parents, sometimes the whole family, eating, drinking, and just being happy that they were together. Followed by singing and laughing as they waited for the Weihnachtsmann to arrive, either in form of his father, or, when he couldn't be with them, his grandfather when he was still alive.  
  
The boy he had been then couldn't imagine ever spending a Christmas differently. Klaus had thought that it would always be this way, with all of them together. Just one of the given, unchangeable facts in life.  
  
It had been a stupid notion, of course, like so many other things, how he had learned the hard way, when from one day to the next nothing was anymore an unchangeable fact.  
  
Klaus shook his head, banished these memories once more. It was a senseless waste of time dwelling in them. It wouldn't change anything, nor bring the past back.  
  
 _Gott hat euch die Welt gesegnet:  
Christ erschien der Erdenzeit._  
  
Even after all those years he still knew the text by heart, or maybe it was just thanks to the habit of going to church every Christmas. Here and now it sounded different though. Not just because of the voices, clearly male instead of his mother's soft tone, but also hearing it in a different language, with different lyrics.  
  
 _What gladsome tidings be  
Which inspire your heav'nly song?_  
  
  
Not unpleasant, just strange. And even if a few sang out of tune, most notable that stingy bug who sat beside the Earl, clinging to him as if there wouldn't be a tomorrow anymore, it didn't disturb the flow, but only seemed to bring the carol to life.  
  
Then they stopped, so that only the piano could be heard. It seemed even more intense now, yet not in a disrupting way, rather emphasizing the silence. It was a strange, ridiculously eerie feeling. It changed again when Dorian's voice interrupted the blend of silence and music. No, rather joined it, but in a way that drew all attention to his performance.  
  
 _Gloria  
In excelsis deo_  
  
Of course, being his attention craving self, it was no surprise that the thief would claim the spotlight for the grand finale for himself, Klaus thought, not bothering to hide his grimace of annoyance.  
  
 _Gloria  
In excelsis deo_  
  
The worst was, Klaus decided after Eroica had finished and his men were clapping like the mindless, flattering audience someone like the Earl would surround himself with, that the wanker could sing. He not only hit and held the right tones, but he had a pleasant voice that added to an already very engaging song, enchanting it even further.  
  
In short - Klaus hated it.  
  
No, he _wished_ to hate it, desperately, as much as he hated everything else about this fucked up day so far, if not even more. But he also wanted to have a cigarette. Both wishes had basically the same result, none of them in his favour. He still enjoyed that bloody wanker's performance enough that he wouldn't have minded if it had continued for a bit longer, and he certainly had no cigarette.  
  
"You enjoyed that." Not even a question, but a bloody statement.  
  
"So? Even somebody like him can have talent for something else than thieving. It's long ago that I read Dickens last, but weren't Scrooge's lessons somehow deeper? He wasn't forced to see how the person he hates most spends his free time, so why me? I have nothing to do with that fucking pervert, apart from him annoying the hell out of me!"  
  
Sister Braun looked at him, disapproving. "In the past you never used such language. Not even when you were upset. You were much more amiable then," she said.  
  
"I'm not upset. I'm angry, there's a huge difference. I had something better to do than wasting my time by watching criminals under the Christmas tree."  
  
"Like being confined to the bed or alone in your castle, hiding until the next mission?"  
  
Klaus snorted. "Enjoying my peace can hardly be seen as hiding. And everything would be more entertaining than this here! But since the show is finished," he pointed at the window where the Earl's men had started to run senselessly around, in and out of the room, "can we go now?"  
  
His former teacher shook his head. "You wouldn't want to miss the finale, do you?"  
  
"Believe me, there're a lot of things I'd rather do right now. But obviously none of you is interested in my opinion," Klaus said, sighing. "Hey, do you happen to have a cigarette at least? Or a coffee? I prefer Nescafe, but I also take another sort." It was an emergency after all.  
  
Sister Braun's eyes narrowed. "You should know that it is unhealthy."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"And your temporary physical condition is hardly suited for anything like that either."  
  
Klaus discovered that the wild running around in the castle maybe hadn't been so senseless after all, because just now one of the Earl's men returned, arms full of plates, followed by James who held a single bottle of wine in his hand. Dorian shook his head when the stingy buck presented it to him. "We are not going to drink that cheap excuse of a wine, James. Certainly not today! We are celebrating the Birth of Christ and that shouldn't be done with vinegar!"  
  
"You are still not religious, milord."  
  
The Earl shrugged. "Who knows, maybe I had a vision and just didn't tell you about it."  
  
Much to his horror, Klaus realized that he could relate to James' shocked gaze. Identifying with that stingy, disgusting bug. Wonderful. Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach had just reached another low. Just when he had been convinced that his day couldn't get any worse. And of course, it was that stupid thief's fault again!  
  
How dared he to interfere even in Klaus' ... as whatever this here could be classified. "Damn him!"  
  
"He gets interesting reactions out of you for somebody you don't care about, don't you think?"  
  
Klaus decided that such an absurd pseudo-question didn't require an answer and instead focused on the object of his dislike.  
  
"The only thing more ridiculous would be if you suddenly proclaimed that you would stop thieving, my Lord."  
  
Dorian laughed. "Never, my dear Mister James. But even so it's a matter of respect, so we will celebrate the way the occasion demands."  
  
"But the dinner was already so expensive, and I got that on discount, 10 bottles for the price of one!"  
  
"Probably for a very good reason. You can drink whatever you want, Jamesie, but you are not going to poison anybody else, certainly not on Christmas. We will stick to the plan," Dorian said, determined, then moved towards the window. In the first shock at the sudden proximity, Klaus jumped back a step.  
  
"He can't see you."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"No normal human can see us."  
  
Klaus refrained from pointing out that Earl Dorian Red Gloria could hardly be described as a normal human being and instead focused on suppressing the ever-growing desire for a cigarette.  
  
Said Earl stood now not even an arm-length away from Klaus, the only separation a pane of glass. Now that he was standing, Klaus could see that he was dressed in one of the ridiculous robes he was so proud of, this one exactly the shade of his eyes, falling elegantly around his upper body. His right hand was pressed against the glass, while he held a cigarette in the other.  
  
"What do you think he's doing, Jamesie?" he asked, gaze almost dreamily.  
  
"That old geezer?" Eroica smiled at that. Klaus made a face. "The same as always, being a pain, breaking hearts, saving the world ..."  
  
"Actually, no." The Earl turned half around to Bonham, who had appeared behind them, so that Klaus could only see his profile. Mister Bonham held the cordless phone in his hand, almost clutching it to his chest.  
  
"What do you mean? Did something happen?" There was alarm in the Earl's voice.  
  
"That was A. The Major is in the hospital." Even through the window and in the diffuse light it was impossible to ignore that the Earl suddenly paled. "He was on a mission and got shot."  
  
"Is he ..."  
  
"No, you bloody idiot! I'm right here," Klaus growled, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable in his role as a spectator.  
  
Bonham shook his head, hastily. "No, but he's still in a critical condition. The bullet barely missed his heart."  
  
"God." Dorian's voice sounded chocked.  
  
Klaus grimaced. Very theatrical, especially when one considered that Klaus was standing right in front of his window and basically, if there wouldn't be the glass, just needed to reach out with his hand to touch him. Not that he would ever do that. "What is that supposed to be? You said I'm no longer in a critical condition!"  
  
"As soon as you're back in the hospital, body and mind," his old teacher said, voice soft. "Look."  
  
Klaus didn't want to look anymore, didn't want to see Dorian's display of what seemed to be frank shock and worry. He wanted to be far away from here, where he neither needed to think about the wide blue eyes, gleaming unnaturally in the candle light, nor about the suppressed shaking, mostly visible in the hand that was holding the cigarette. He wanted to be where he could either forget about that fucking pervert, who had turned his world upside down, or at least hate him. Not that he didn't do that already.  
  
"Bonham, would you please check for a plane? As soon as possible?"  
  
"Already did that, milord. The airport has closed because of the weather and won't open before tomorrow," Bonham said, his gaze worried and fixed on his boss.  
  
"Prepare the car then. I will drive."  
  
"You can't be serious! There's snow and ice on the streets. You will never get to Germany in one piece!" For once, Klaus agreed with James. Even Earl Dorian Red Gloria must realize that.  
  
Obviously not, because the Earl shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I trust the car has been prepared for the weather?"  
  
Bonham nodded.  
  
"But you can't! Not for him! The dinner!" James brought out, grabbing Dorian's arm. Klaus eyes narrowed. The annoying piece of shit was actually shaking. A really pathetic image, if he had ever seen one.  
  
"Stop that, James! You know that I will go, so spare your energy!"  
  
"You will kill us all!"  
  
"No, because you'll stay here. I will go alone. Celebrate for me, Jamesie. You can make the dinner last longer and save money," the last was added almost absently, but it still worked. That bug's eyes started to gleam and he released Eroica.  
  
"I will come with you, my Lord."  
  
"As much as I appreciate it, but you don't need to, Bonham. Stay here and keep me informed if something should change."  
  
"A has my cell phone number and you can't drive the whole way alone."  
  
So much for his theory that Bonham was the least idiotic in Eroica's bunch of idiots. "Just another fool," Klaus said, then, having learned his lesson before with his Alphabets, withstood the temptation to knock against the window - and some sense into the idiot of idiots. Instead he turned around to the ghost at his side. "Make them stop. Now!" he demanded, leaving no doubt that he wouldn't tolerate refusal.  
  
Sister Braun shook her head. "I can't. Earl Gloria is his own man. I'm not to interfere with his life."  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes, Klaus saw the Earl talking to his men, probably briefing them, then turned around and left the room. "You interfered with my life, but you'd rather watch him getting killed on the street for something that useless? Break his car! Make A ring them and tell them that I'm fine again! At least do something so that I can talk sense into that reckless idiot!"  
  
He shook off the hand from his shoulder and glared at the ghost. That she looked like his former teacher had become secondary. Now Klaus was just angry. "He won't die, if it is any consolation. Possibly. He's a very adept driver. Even if I could, there would be nothing that would stop him short of you arriving here. He cares about you and is worried. He will drive to Germany, no matter what will happen."  
  
"He's an idiot, nothing more!"  
  
"Because he cares about you?"  
  
Klaus' hands had clenched to fists at his sides and his teeth were positively grinding by yet another irrelevant question that he couldn't answer, mostly because he didn't know the answer, but also because there was no easy answer and certainly not one he wanted to think about any further. He had done a damn good job of the last point so far and nobody, certainly no ghost nor an insane thief, would change that.  
  
He had no time to answer either, because in the next moment the newest model of a Lamborghini, red of course, roared to life behind them, then passed the castle and drove down the narrow bends. Far too fast, of course, especially for this kind of weather. "You bloody idiot ...," Klaus growled under his breath. "Wait until I get my hands on you ..."  
  
"You worry a great deal about someone you can't even stand."  
  
Klaus turned around to the ghost, eyes burning in anger. "Can we go now? I want to finish this waste of my time." And then have a serious word with quite a few people, most of all that idiot of a thief! "Hey, who's the next ghost?" he asked, the thought suddenly occurring him.  
  
"She's a nice old lady. A bit exhausting at times, but overall very pleasant. Nobody you know. Ready?"  
  
Before Klaus could answer, the annoying and breath-taking coldness of before returned, followed by the swirling wind. Klaus instinctively closed his eyes against the cold, then felt the blackness returning. Like before, the sensation ended before he could lose the last of his dignity by loosing consciousness.  
  
"Take care of yourself, my dear boy," his guide said, her voice already fading until Klaus wasn't even sure anymore if it ever had really been there. When Klaus finally convinced himself from opening his eyes, there was no trace of his former teacher anymore. Nor was there of anything else.


	3. Stage 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus hates Christmas. And ghosts. He hates it even more when both comes together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Eroica Christmas fic that is is loosely based and inspired by Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol

______________

**Stage 3  
** ______________

  
Klaus couldn't see anything, not even the hospital room. He was caught in something that could only be described absolute darkness.

 _Kann noch nicht mal die eigene Hand vor Augen sehen_ , he remembered suddenly the speech. And it could be taken quite literally here. Klaus could neither see the own hand in front of his eyes, nor anything else. He hated to admit it, but it was quite unnerving after everything that had happened so far.

His murmured curse turned into an appropriate loud one, as he, on the exploration of his surroundings, or at least a switch for the light, run against something solid - and very hard, sending a blinding pain through his shinbone.

" _Scheisse_!"

As if that was the magic word, the light suddenly turned on, disorienting Klaus for a moment. With a grimace, he discovered that this was indeed the hospital, even more his room, and that he had run straight against the metal nightstand beside his bed.

"Oh, dear. I hope you haven't hurt yourself?" Disregarding his pain, Klaus jumped around - then back, as he found himself face to face with a woman. Even in his shock, his training took over, allowed him to memorize her in every small detail within a matter of seconds. Middle-aged, maybe a bit older. It was difficult to say. Her skin was still smooth, but her hair grey. Bright blue eyes, watching him interested, the body of average high and slender. Her fingers were elegant and thin as she reached for him, but Klaus managed to save himself with a jump to the side.

"Don't," he said, voice warning. Not that he could do much if she was the nice old lady, his former teacher had mentioned. If he had learned one thing today, it was that ghosts didn't like to play after the rules and certainly never listened to him.

"Sorry about that. I think Berta thought it funny."

"Berta ..."

"Roberta Braun. The one before me. Very nice, but never got rid off her teacher mentality and she sure has a very strange sense of humour."

Klaus realized that she was talking about Sister Braun, and that he, until this moment at least, had never heard her first name. "She suggested that it would probably ease you into the role when I came into black robes and all that shit. To fulfil your expectations or something like that. I hope you don't mind that I skipped that. Oh, and I like to talk, so don't expect any of that silent finger pointing from me. Any more questions?"

Klaus needed a moment to compose himself. Obviously Dickens had taken many artistic liberty if she was the last of the three. "The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?" he finally asked once he could trust his voice again.

"Oh dear," she said, striking an errant strand of long grey hair out of her face. "I forgot to introduce myself. Again. Well, yes, I am the one, but ghost of the future will do. I'm all for splendour, but at the right times and places. Not that you couldn't appreciate it -- well, you probably couldn't -- but the situation still doesn't ask for it. And time is too precious for that. My predecessors took up too much of that already. The night is almost over and you soon will have to wake up, which you can't do, before we are not finished here. I trust you know what I'm going to show you?"

"Future Christmas?" Klaus asked, resigned.

She laughed. "I suppose my belated introduction was a dead giveaway, wasn't it? Anyway, it's not just any future Christmas, but your own, if there won't be a change in course. But we are here to ensure that, so let's go."

Before Klaus could retort, or in fact even take the breath he would have needed to answer, the world shifted around him, and he found himself in a pub. A thick man stood behind the bar, mopping the counter with a cloth that seemed just as dirty as his formerly white (probably) shirt, while moving tasteless Christmas decoration around, including a fairy lights that covered the whole counter and which lights blinked in such an erratic manner that it just had to make one nervous.

In normal circumstances it was a place Klaus would have avoided (unless a mission subjected him to such horror of course). "Why are we here?" He really didn't want to be here now either. The air was stale, smelling of tobacco, toilet, sweat and other things, which Klaus had no desire to identify.

"Patience. You do smoke, don't you?"

He turned around to the woman at his side. "That's a really bad joke when I can't smoke."

"Who told you that? Roberta?" When Klaus nodded, she laughed so loud that he was convinced that everybody in this... establishment must have heard them. Only that there weren't many people around to start with, and that they were ghosts, invisible to everyone else. Well, his companion was a ghost while he was something different. "Always the nun, always trying to save people," she shook her head hard enough that her flying hair almost hit Klaus. "Bullshit. Of course you can smoke. Who should hinder you? Wait a moment."

And with that she vanished, only to materialize again almost immediately behind the counter. She looked around for a moment, than smiled, flooded beside the waiter and snatched his box of cigarettes and the lighter.

"Here you go. " When Klaus hesitated, she frowned. "I'm not going to poison you. That's not my job. Not today anyway," she said. The light laugh that followed was everything but reassuring. She lit a cigarette, then held it under Klaus' nose, tempting him with the calming aroma and the smoke.

His infamous stamina even in the face of the worst threats that had kept him alive for so long, lasted for a whole of five seconds, then Klaus snatched the cigarette from the ghost. His hand was shaking when he lifted it to his mouth. Klaus didn't care. "Oh, yes ...," he said, the first smoke still in his lungs.

"I take it you are feeling better already?" his companion asked, smoking peacefully beside him.

"Much better."

"Good. Nobody should go without a cigarette longer than necessary."

"How about coffee?" The only other thing he needed. Maybe after that the day would start to look less rotten.

"Well, your body is not as solid as it looks, so no. It would just run right through and land on the ground below you. I'd say try it, but time is up."

His companion was strange, but so far definitely the least annoying of the three, Klaus decided with another deep drag. He liked her. In a way. It was probably just another sign of his shitty day that he'd think so, but it couldn't be helped. At least the end of this nightmare was in sight, she had given him a cigarette, didn't try to hit on him, didn't know him and there was something about her that seemed very --

"There he is," she interrupted his thoughts. Klaus turned around to follow her gaze -- then froze. He was older, his blond hair slowly turning grey, and he looked a bit worn, but there was no doubt.

"That's my agent! S. What is he doing here?"

"The usual people do in a pub, I'd assume. Getting something to drink."

"But ... it's Christmas. Shouldn't he be home? Celebrating with his family, or at least a girlfriend instead of getting drunk here?"

"Well, he tried that," the ghost explained while S sat down in a dark corner. Obviously he was a frequent guest here, because the bartender greeted him by name, then, without asking brought him a bottle of something or the other. Klaus couldn't read the name, but there was not much of a doubt that it was alcohol.

"And?" he asked following his guide closer to the table.

"Thanks to your disregard for Christmas, his relationships never lasted beyond that holiday," she explained with an indifferent shrug. "People in love like to spend such holidays with their partner instead of worrying about them. This is the result. After his last break-up, your Agent S has given up and discovered that he's welcome here whenever time allows him to be here. No stress, no more broken hearts. It's tragic, but nothing extraordinary considering the circumstances. He has been that way for three years and will probably continue for a few more. He's not the only one who spends his free time this way, so I wouldn't worry too much," she explained Klaus, who was somewhere caught between anger and shock.

"What --"

"Never mind him. He has his company and soon won't miss anything anymore."

Klaus glared, not sure if for annoyance with his subordinate or his companion. It didn't matter either way. Both deserved it. "He shouldn't drink. He has to work tomorrow!"

"Nah. You fired him a year ago because he screwed up an observation. It was your last deed. Of course, not all your agents ended up this way. Let's see what your good Mister A is doing, shall we? We are in a hurry, so take my hand."

His last deed? Fired him? That didn't make sense. He sent his people to Alaska ... then the words sunk in. "I will certainly not do such a thing. Stay the hell away from me!" Klaus said, his eyes still fixed on his agent, who in return cradled the bottle for a moment, almost lovingly, before filling his glass.

"You are quite exasperating Well, then, you leave me no other choice," the ghost said and just grabbed his hand.

Before he could withdraw it or even complain, the surroundings had changed. He found himself in front of a lovely small house. "Where are we?"

"Belgium. Your agent is now a Lieutenant Colonel. He has been promoted for his extraordinary service and transferred to SHAPE. Apparently he hit it quite well. Just look."

He followed the ghost's pointed hand towards a small white house. Even before he had crossed the small front garden, he heard the warm laughter. Through the window he could see the pretty wife of his subordinate, whose name he couldn't recall now, sitting on the couch right beside the Christmas tree, right and left a child, one boy and one girl, unmistakable Agent A's offspring's. "But where's daddy, mom? He needs to be here when Santa comes!"

The boy laughed. "You are stupid. Dad plays Santa, so he can't be here!"

"No, he doesn't! Santa is much bigger than daddy! And daddy doesn't have a beard!" his sister said, glaring at her brother. " _You_ are stupid if you don't see it!"

"You shouldn't talk this way to each other," their mother chided them gently. She had aged as well, but gracefully enough that she could still be described as beautiful. "Your dad will be here soon enough. And maybe we can coax Santa into coming earlier. Do you have any idea how we could do--"

"Yes, mommy! Let's sing!" the girl said, clapping her hands in excitement. Then, when her mother obviously took too long for her taste, broke out into her own interpretation of _Jingle Bells_.

"It's rather sweet," his companion said as Klaus stared at the scene that unfolded in front of him. More exactly, he stared at his agent, slightly older and stuffed in a Santa Claus costume. Klaus just hoped that it were pillows or something equally and not fat that filled the costume. They stayed long enough to see the rejoice of the children at their presents, his agent getting rid off the ridiculous costume and returning to the living room, where he was greeted with a kiss by is beautiful wife and his daughter informing him that he'd just missed Santa.

"You must be relieved after our first visit."

Klaus shrugged. "He was always a family man. I could have told you that before." And a pretty good agent, even if he had never proclaimed it aloud, so seeing him here was no surprise.

"Unfortunately, he could just act on it once he didn't work under you anymore. In less than five years he moved up to Captain, Major, than _Oberstleutnant_."

"Are you trying to tell me that I was in his way?"

"Oh no, not at all," she laughed. It sounded honest enough. "It's not for nothing that people, your friends and enemies alike, say that you are one of the best in the field. But you expect the same high standards and sacrifices that made you Iron Klaus from your men, and that, while admirable, makes it difficult."

"How far in the future are we?" Klaus asked, not inclined at all to discus that topic any further, certainly not with a ghost.

"Just eight years. Now, anybody you would like to see next? We are slightly ahead of our schedule..."

"No."

"Really?" she sounded disappointed. "You know, we have still 24 of your men left. Or we could watch your Director and his wife." Klaus shuddered. That was one of the last things he wanted to see. "Or Mischa. It could be amusing. His daughter will inform him today that he is going to be grandfather in a few months..."

"Mischa? No, thanks. And I don't want to see the future of each of my men either, nor my own, nor that of my father, nor that of anybody else. In fact, I want to go home now," Klaus said, a note of exasperation in his voice.

"You are a real spoilsport. I will never understand what he sees in you," the ghost muttered, her eyes fixed on Klaus, the gaze disconcerting intense. Absently, she played with a strand of her hair, then, "Well, then we will just move on. One more stop and the rest will be in your own hands again. Any idea what the last stop could be?"

"I prefer not to."

"Ah, come on. You really should loosen up a bit, you know. Otherwise you should rather worry about a heart attack than a bullet. So?"

There was not much left anymore, no matter if he liked the option or not. "Castle Gloria?" he asked, adding an extra nuance of boredom and annoyance to his voice.

"What makes you think that?"

Klaus shrugged. "Your people's unhealthy obsession to make me watch that idiot?"

"It seems there is something you are not aware of, dear Major," she said. The serious tone clashed with her bright smile and the combination was more than just a tad unsettling, Klaus decided as he caught the box of cigarettes she suddenly threw at him. He fished one out and lit it.

"And that would be?"

"If he wouldn't mean anything to you, we wouldn't be here."

"I hate him."

"Ah, but hate isn't a synonym for indifference. You should know that, Major. So there's at least an emotional bond."

"There is no bond between us." Klaus' voice was very intentionally very sharp. Not that the ghost was impressed.

"You're mistaken. As soon as emotions are involved, there's a bond. Positive or negative is not important and variable anyway. So you and the Earl have a bond and that since quite a few years already, which is the reason we are here now. But you are only partly right. We are not going to Castle Gloria. Earl Gloria himself closed down the castle two years ago. A pity if you ask me. However, we are taking a look at our favourite thief," she said, voice warm, maybe even affectionate.

Klaus mind was reeling, yet, like before, he never got a chance to ask his questions or even to sort through the chaos that were his thoughts. The ghost took his hand and the landscape changed.

Suddenly they were in the middle of London, in front of an old house. He turned to his guide. "The Earl's new home," she said, snipping her cigarette away. "Come." She pushed open one of the two huge wooden doors, giving view onto a wide corridor.

Klaus took his time, taking into the architecture as well as the surroundings while slowly finishing his cigarette. It was ridiculous, he was very well aware of that, but he couldn't help himself. Like so very often when it came to that thief, it seemed. Pathetic.

"You know, for someone who claims not to care, you're doing an awful lot to postpone our visit. But you're not very good at it. Rather like a kid that just got told that it will have to go to the dentist. Not at all like an Intelligence Agent of your calibre."

Klaus snarled. "You have a very vivid imagination for somebody who isn't even alive anymore," he said, then, with a snarl, threw away the rest of his cigarette. "Which floor?" he asked as he stormed past her, as if wanting to prove that he wasn't affected by the situation. And he wasn't. He was just here because he had no other choice. He couldn't care less about Eroica or how he decided to waste away his future.

"The last. They connected the two upper stores," his guide said, flowing past him and up the stairs.

Of course. Someone like the Earl wouldn't be satisfied with just a single flat. Extravagance wherever it was possible. There was something strangely comforting about that, Klaus had to admit as he followed the ghost. After the third store they came to a hold at a closed wooden door. His companion pushed it open, so that they could slip in.

"What the hell ...," came from the living room, an unfamiliar voice, deep and pleasant. "Stay here. I will close it. But nothing works in those old houses. We should get somebody to look at all these things, darling."

"Try to find somebody over the holidays." That voice Klaus knew too well. He froze in his movement as a figure appeared in the doorframe to the dark corridor. Not Eroica. The body was too heavy to be him and the movements not graceful enough.

Klaus' eyes narrowed when the figure approached further and the light from the staircase illuminated his face. A bit smaller than Klaus, sharp and intelligent eyes, underlined by what people called an aristocratic nose, short dark hair, slightly curled. Overall, he was ... acceptable looking, Klaus decided after a moment.

"Not that you will find someone after the holidays. But it's the charm of old flats, so ... Oh, you look splendid, darling," he said upon turning around. Klaus followed on his heals.

Dorian stood in the doorframe, two glasses of Champaign in his hand. He was clothed in narrow black pants and a dark red shirt. The hair, now even longer than Klaus knew it, fell loosely over his back. "Simply stunning, as always," the stranger said. He was right. The Earl looked good. Older, maybe, but aging certainly hadn't harmed his looks.

Klaus took in a sharp breath when he saw the stranger bowing slightly forward to kiss the thief. "Delectable, in fact." His voice was a murmur, but it was still too loud for Klaus' taste and it awoke feelings within him that he really didn't want to feel.

Dorian laughed as he relaxed in the arms that were suddenly around him. Klaus instinctively began to dislike the other man. Another pervert. It was one thing to know that the Earl was one, even to have the displeasure to be at the receiving end of his ill-suited affection, but it was an entirely different one, to be forced to observe such a disgusting display now, even more with someone like ...

Klaus shook his head, forcing himself not to think about that further. It was not his business with whom the wanker ended up. At the very least it meant that Klaus would be free of him. He should drink on that once this nightmare here was over. Right after he gave that bloody idiot a piece of his mind for putting him through this shit, and then he would --

"Don't punish the poor commode. The wood is not to blame." Klaus needed a second to realize that he was indeed clutching the wooden surface. At once he released it, hiding his embarrassment behind a scowl. It was long ago that he had last felt so pathetic. Well, no, the last time was when he had walked into that trap earlier today. But this here was even worse.

"As do you," the thief said, his voice almost a purr as he gave one of the glasses to the other man.

"When did you say they would be here?"

"We still have two hours left. But we need to keep an eye on the dinner, so I can't allow you to get too distracted."

"There's only one solution then - get out off the house. Even just being near you is very distracting."

"Ah, Robert. You still know how to win a man's heart, don't you?" Dorian said, laughing, while tracing the faint lines in the other's face with one finger.

"I had enough of practice with you." The atmosphere had suddenly become serious. "I love you, you know. I will never love somebody else," Robert said, playing for a moment with a strand of blond curls before claiming Eroica's lips once more.

Klaus snarled at the display. It was disgusting. How dared that degenerate to do something like that? And how dared that wanker to do something like that after all his vows of love! Klaus had known it. Nothing more than meaningless words!

"Easy now, Major," he heard his guide beside him, then angrily shook off the hand that was suddenly on his shoulder.

Dorian's face was slightly flushed when that idiot finally released him. "Careful. You are spoiling me, Doctor," Dorian said, again with that smile of his that awoke the strong desire within Klaus to either beat or to kiss him senseless, and had done so for the last couple of years already.

"You deserve nothing less. I promised you that I would make you happy, didn't I? And I will do whatever it takes to ensure that."

"Who is that?" Klaus asked, voice terse.

"Robert Stephenson, a renowned surgeon."

"Come, darling. I want to give you your present before the others come," Mister-renowned-Doctor said. "And it's much more comfortable in front of the fire than in the corridor.

Klaus' hands clenched to fists as he observed the pair going into the living room, then positively started to itch as he watched them sitting down in front of a happily crackling fire, near the Christmas tree that took up almost a quarter of the spacious room.

He felt the urge to rip that small package from Eroica's hands and to throw it into the flames. Or alternately to get away _now_ and to forget that he had ever been here. He wanted to forget about the possessiveness with which that asshole treated Eroica, or the disgusting display of their affection. And he especially wanted to forget about the stunned blue gaze when the package laid openly in the Earl's hand, the fire breaking at the small stone in the ring.

"That's stupid!" Klaus growled when his pacing around the room didn't change anything. "You're such a bloody idiot. You don't know anything! You would take everybody who gives you the attention you seek! You are nothing but an attention-whoring pervert!" He turned his back onto the far too happy looking pair when they started kissing once more. "I've had more than enough. Take me back."

"So you don't want to see what will happen next? Or can't you even bear to see him happy?"

"As long as it means that I'll have my peace, he can do whatever he wants," Klaus pressed out.

"Being happy for him is the least you can do. It's just too bad that it won't last for long anymore ...," she said, eyes suddenly sorrowful, but still fixed on the pair in front of them. "And ultimately it will be your responsibility."

"What do you mean?" Klaus asked, arms crossed over his chest. "Tell me." Obviously his mouth worked faster than his brain, because he had spoken before his brain had caught up and so before it could remind him that he really didn't want to know more about the other man than he did already and what was required for work.

"After years of chasing after you, and you doing the worst to keep him away, even set him up to get captured, our dear Earl finally lost hope and gave up. He had just made the decision that he would be much better off if he would forget you, even refused a few offers to work with you and NATO, when he had a car accident. It was a night much like today. The streets were icy and he drove too fast. Suddenly an animal jumped onto the street. He tried to avoid it and lost track of the road. That's at least the official version."

Klaus refused to ask or even to ponder what the unofficial version was.

"In short, the Earl was hurt badly enough that he ended up in the hospital. The doctor, one Robert Stephenson, who treated him in the hospital, turned out to be not only the son of the family doctor of the Gloria's but also an old childhood friend whom he hadn't seen in ages. They caught up on the past and the crush the doctor had already as a child tuned into love. He courted him, for months, never giving up, until Dorian finally gave in, which brings us to the present."

Klaus suppressed a shiver. "It seemed to have turned out well enough. He looks happy," he said, but refused to turn around.

"Probably as happy as he ever will be after the first man he really fell in love with rejected him. But, as I said already, it won't last for much longer."

The first that thief ever loved? That was ridiculous! That Pervert flirted with everything that was male, looked halfway decent and didn't manage to escape in time! "Why is that?"

"Oh, he'll just be dead this time next year," the ghost said, voice indifferent, almost as if she was just talking about the weather. And maybe for her it was. Klaus felt suddenly very cold.

"Why? Does he have that ... sickness?"

"You mean AIDS?" she laughed, which was very unsettling considering the matter of conversation. "No. But the doctor is quite possessive, as you have probably noticed, and when Dorian reacts very strongly to the information that you died in action our dear doctor will snap and kill him before shooting himself. It will be a classical homicide."

To say that Klaus was shocked would have been an understatement. Even after he somehow managed to wrap his mind around the news, it still seemed too abstract as that it could be true. And how should he imagine that the man who years ago had suddenly decided to turn Klaus' world upside down, who was a worldwide known art thief and a pest, shouldn't be there anymore in less than a decade? It was impossible, especially seeing him now in the arms of what would be his murderer if he believed his guide. And that bit about him being dead? Not that it was impossible, but ...

"You're lying," he said after a moment.

"I'm not. Right now, it's the course of events. However, the future is flexible."

"And why are you talking about this as if it would be nothing? Get him away from that bastard instead of telling me about it!"

"On the contrary. I care a lot. The whole situation as it plays out now is not only very sad, but a real tragedy. Especially considering the circumstances. Believe it or not, you were the first he fell in love with. He flirts a lot, but never gave more, never wanted more. He was scared of a too intimate relationship, at least until he met you. You think he's an annoying pest just out to aggravate you, but let me tell you, what he feels for you scares him as much as it scares and annoys you. He didn't want it anymore than you. And no, I certainly don't want to see him end up this way, but there's nothing I can do to change that."

The air was suddenly charged and even while Klaus' eyes were fixed on the pair, the surroundings shifted once more until they were down on the street again.

"Who are you that you know all that about him?"

"We know everything that takes place in this line of events."

"I don't believe you," Klaus said. "The whole 'he only always loved you' is absolutely ridiculous, nothing but empty words. He flirts with almost every person that is male."

"But he never goes beyond that. You are the only one who manages to break his heart, constantly."

"Who are you?" Klaus asked. "And don't give me the same shit again. I'm fed up with that."

The ghost remained silent for a moment, maybe weighting her options, or maybe just thinking about more lies to tell him. "Very well. Countess Blythe Avena Gloria. A pleasure to meet you Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach."

His day just had taken a turn into an even more bizarre realm. This all just couldn't be true, even if it would explain the strange sense of familiarity she had awoken within him. "Countess Gloria, eh. So you are ..."

"Dorian's Grandmother," she said, smiling slightly. "From his father's side. I died when he was very small, so he doesn't remember me anymore, but I know everything that happened to him and everything about him. He's his father's son, far too talented in almost everything, but unfortunately just as stubborn and reckless."

 _Reckless_ was still an understatement as far as Klaus was concerned, but he was too stunned to rectify that and so just nodded, muted, while lighting himself another cigarette. Now that he knew what to look for, the similarities where obvious, like the way she held her cigarette, or the way she pushed her hair out of her face, or just the long, elegant fingers as she bound her hair back - with a red tie.

"You might not be able to see it, or maybe I'm too biased, but he is a real darling once you get through the childish head of his. A deep romantic, too. It got even worse after he met you. From then on he didn't even think anymore about having another affair. A one-night stand here and there, but it meant nothing. All he ever thought about was you. A pity," she said, snatching the freshly lit cigarette from Klaus. "Such a waste. He would have been much happier if he hadn't fallen for you. Or maybe not. Maybe he would still fly around then and not even be alive anymore, reckless as he is."

She paused, took another drag while she observed him, intently. Klaus had to withstand the temptation to shift nervously around. There was something about all these ghosts that brought out all his weak traits and let him forget decades of Intelligence training and service. It was pathetic, really. Klaus couldn't wait for this to be over, so that he could return in his world where he wasn't forced to deal with something like that. In fact, the next person who dared to tell him something about ghosts, would wish he had never ever met him.

"I have wondered why you of all people, but I can see it now. Saving the world on a daily basis with no regard for anything, least of all for yourself, your own survival or even your own feelings. The hero of every story and probably the only one whom Dorian discovered could challenge him on a professional as well as an intellectual level. I suppose that drew him to you in the first place. He probably never expected the rest. And that all despite that thick head of yours and your ... rather exasperating attitude."

She sighed, then stroke a strand of escaped hair out of her face. "The poor boy. He couldn't have fallen for someone more unsuitable if he had tried it. As if somebody who works for NATO wouldn't be bad enough already, it had to be someone who is as cold-hearted as you are, who can't even allow himself happiness, someone who will never be able to return his feelings, or even just to accept him the way it is. It's a tragedy. Mostly for him."

"Your _poor boy_ ," Klaus spit the two words as he repeated them, "is an international art thief whose greatest pleasure it is to mess up my missions and my life! He's a bloody idiot, who can't leave me in peace!"

"You have never been in love, have you? And we all have our professions. You save the world, my grandson collects art. Like with you, it runs in the family. But I suppose I shouldn't tell you then what I did while I was still alive," she said, suddenly grinning. Just as fast she was serious again. "Seeing that you can't even lie to yourself anymore, maybe you should rather ask yourself just what you're so afraid of. Preferably before you break even more hearts."

"I'm not afraid of anything!" Klaus said, yelling without actually raising his voice. It was a very useful tactic to shut up and scare off people, which Klaus had perfected throughout the years.

It worked with almost everybody.

Except for ghosts.

"Of course not, dear," the Countess said, then, with a gaze on her watch, threw the cigarette to the ground. A perfectly timed snowflake put it out immediately. "I will return you now, so that you can wake up. Just keep in mind that this here is only one possible view of what could happen. Time, especially the future, is flexible. The most insignificant things can change everything. In any case, we are finished. The rest is on you."

Klaus had just regained his wits to give the Countess a piece of his mind, ghost or not, when his surroundings started to become distorted, followed by such bright light that Klaus had to close his eyes.


	4. Stage 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus hates Christmas. And ghosts. He hates it even more when both comes together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Eroica Christmas fic that is is loosely based and inspired by Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol

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**Stage 4  
** ______________

  
With a groan, Klaus laid back when the door finally closed behind the last of his agents, G. He shuddered inwardly as he recalled his weeping and the make-up that had ran over his whole face - and Klaus' pyjama - by the time G had convinced himself that Klaus was not only alive but rather well, too, which he unfortunately first had believed when Klaus had screamed at him and pushed him away. It had been a very scary image, maybe even scarier than the last few hours.

Though, now in the artificial light of the hospital room, once the initial shock had worn off and he had orientated himself again, Klaus was almost convinced that it had been nothing more but an utterly bizarre nightmare, born out of the shock, blood loss and medication. It was the only plausible explanation. If he started to believe in ghosts now, he could just as well give up his job and join SETI, or any of the other crazy organizations. After all, there wasn't much of a difference between ghosts and aliens. Once you started to believe in one, the rest would follow.

In general, Klaus decided as he sat up again, the least he thought about that all, the better it was. And even less talk about it. Otherwise he would not only have two weeks ordered rest, but would be send on an unlimited vacations, along with just as many paid visits to the intern shrink, to find out if he'd lost it, taken drugs or whatever other problems plagued him.

With some effort and ignoring the pain in his chest, Klaus stood up and went over to the small, metallic wardrobe. With a frown, he looked at the shirt. The small hole in the cloth, decorated with blood, did nothing to distract from the dirt where he had landed onto the ground. His trouser didn't look much better, just sans bullet hole.

It would do until he was home. He just had to make it to the front door and get into the cab. The rest was --

A gasp that startled him enough to drop the shoes he had just been inspecting. "Major Eberbach! What do you think you are doing?"

The nurse looked at him as if she was seeing a ghost. Klaus grinned at the description that fitted so well to his earlier thoughts. For a moment, he wondered what she would think if he told her about his experience. Probably raise hell instead of letting him go, to make sure that they hadn't overlooked a severe concussion after all. "What does it look like? I'm getting dressed, then go home."

"But, sir! You can't go! You have been hit by a bullet. You should stay here, under observation. For a few days, at least."

"I'm not going to spend Christmas in a hospital," Klaus explained. "I'll only get more sick here, so I'm releasing myself."

"But ... but ..."

"At my own risk. It's my right as a German citizen," he explained, even managed a friendly smile.

"I ... yes. But it would be better if you would stay here. Of course, there's nothing we can do if you refuse, but you still need to take medication and look after your wound," she said with a shake of her head to underline her disapproval.

"It's not the first time I've been wounded. I will manage."

"Well then ... I will prepare the papers and the medication to last you over the holidays," the nurse said before she, with another shake of her head, left the room.

Klaus had just gathered the sad remains of his clothes, when it knocked and Z entered.

"What are you still doing here? I told you to return to your vacation, didn't I? You shouldn't even have come here. That was absolutely unnecessary. I should ..." he let the sentence drift off at the crestfallen look on his subordinate's face.

"My flight goes first in a few hours and I thought you would appreciate new clothes. I could even drive you home, if you don't like to take a cab, Major."

Klaus observed Z for a moment, critical, then relaxed, even gave the hint of a smile. "I ... appreciate it. Thank you."

" I will wait outside then," Z said and turned around.

Klaus nodded, but stopped his agent at the door. "Oh, Z. Is there anything on your mind you want to tell me?" _Like your ridiculous thoughts about my relationship with a certain thief?_ "What happened while I was out?"

The young agent looked at him for a moment, eyes wide and clearly nervous. "Nothing, sir. We just waited and talked. That was all, really."

"Just talked, mh?" Klaus regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded. "I will join you outside when I've changed."

It might just have been Klaus imagination, the light playing a game with his mind, but Z seemed very hasty on his way out, and he thought there was a slight blush covering his face. He grinned, suddenly feeling very satisfied with the world and himself. Medication induced fantasy or not, he was going to have fun with his men once he returned to office. Agents shouldn't feel too secure anyway and he had quite a few ideas that would keep them off their toes.

***

"Are you sure that you'll be all right, Mister Eberbach?"

"Yes, I will, Conrad," Klaus ensured his butler for the fifth time -- at least.

"I can always cancel my vacation. You have been wounded after all and it is my duty to look after you. Or I could call Britt back. She lives close enough to be here in half an hour."

Klaus counted inwardly to ten. An outburst wouldn't gain him anything. Not with Conrad, not when he was hurt. " _Nein_ , Conrad. I don't want or need any help. I can very well take care of myself. Now go home."

"But what about Master Eberbach? Your father was very worried about you."

"I talked to him in the hospital already." It was one of the disadvantages of having a staff that has been in the Eberbach service for decades already, Klaus decided. They were far too attached. The younger people were easily taken care off, but his butler knew exactly what to do when, which buttons to press to get what when he deemed it necessary for his employer, and not even screaming changed anything then.

The butler looked slightly lost now. "Let me at least set the table for you, Major Eberbach. You shouldn't move much with such a wound."

Klaus winked him off. "Whatever makes you happy," _and then leave me the hell alone_ , he added silently before he grabbed the newspaper and went into the living room. For a few seconds he managed to sit down, even opened the newspaper and read the first headline without actually reading it. Then he stood up again, very aware of his chest and thus very carefully, and went over to the phone.

One phone call, countless threats and three minutes later, he knew what he wanted to know. "Listen, you stingy bug. If you're going to tell your Earl that I called you, I will make sure that you'll never be able to say anything again. Ever. Is that understood?" He didn't wait for an answer, just cut the connection and tested the robustness of the phone by positively throwing the receiver back on the hook.

"That bloody idiot!" Of course, he shouldn't have expected anything else of that degenerate. Lord Gloria wouldn't just turn around and drive home because the streets were icy. That not even that poor excuse for a subordinate had heard from his boss since they drove off hours ago already wasn't a reassurance. Such a degenerate! Maybe the English Channel had stopped him at least, Klaus thought, then shook his head. He would still find a way to come to Germany and to annoy Klaus. It was his favourite hobby after all. Or maybe he had got himself killed already ...

He suppressed the thought as soon as it turned up, suddenly feeling a tight knot where his stomach was supposed to be. No. Not that thief. Not even he would be daft enough for that. He suppressed the talk he had with his grandmother. It was still unsettling to just think about it, no matter if it had been real or just imagined. No, nothing was going to happen. Certainly.

Klaus was still pacing around, when the butler's head appeared in the doorframe. "Are you sure that you are all right? I heard a noise ..."

"It was nothing," Klaus said, terse, letting himself fall onto the couch.

"It's time for your pain medication," the butler said, entering the room with a small tray, which contained two pills, one blue and one of such bright pink that it hurt to even look at it, a glass of water and a cup filled with steaming coffee.

Klaus nodded in thanks as the tray was set in front of him on the table.

"I set your table." Klaus nodded once more, oblivious to the worried gaze on him. "If you are really sure about that, I will go then. But I want for you to call me if something happens or if you need anything."

Klaus nodded again. "I will."

Hinkel was already at the door, when Klaus called him back. "Conrad."

"Sir?"

"Before you go, add a second setting."

"You're expecting a visitor?" Hinkel's face lit up significantly. "Is it somebody --"

"No. Just an idiot who got lost."

"A British idiot by any chance?" When Klaus glared at him, he hastily continued, "Well, at least you won't be completely alone then, Sir." Before Klaus could react in any way to that, the butler continued, "Consider it done. And ... Merry Christmas, Sir."

***

"Most people ring when they want to visit somebody," Klaus stated calmly, not even turning around or bothering with the pistol that was within easy reach on the counter. He tried his best to ignore the relief that flooded through him when he recognized the other's footsteps and continued preparing his coffee. He couldn't even recall anymore how often he had repeated the procedure during the course of the evening, but he had probably drunken more coffee during the last four hours than anytime before, even in the office.

"How did you know it was me?" Klaus heard the smile in the wanker's every word. It made his skin crawl. Somehow. Maybe. Klaus shook his head, calling himself to reason. He was a military man! Not just that, but a German Intelligence Officer working for NATO. He had no such weakness!

"You are the only person I know who's idiotic enough to ignore even snow and ice just to break into my home." He glared at his cup for good measure, for a moment pondering if he might feel better if he threw it against the wall, but then decided against it. Conrad had already complained about the waste of goods last month. That idiot of a butler even had suggested that they should change to plastic cups instead of the fine family porcelain. Just another problem with long-time employees, Klaus thought, then slammed the lid onto the Nescafe box, forcefully enough that a metallic sound echoed through the kitchen, and screwed it tightly.

"But of course," Dorian said, again with that smile in his voice, but then became serious. Just as with his cheerfulness it was all or nothing, at least when the thief decided to be honest instead of acting. It was something Klaus had realized very early on and the reason it was so easy to guess the other's mood. Not only his voice became serious, but also his eyes and stance. "I was worried when I heard that you were shot. I was first at the hospital. They told me you've released yourself. I shouldn't be surprised. That is very much like you, Major," Dorian said, laughing softly, not even trying to hide the note of admiration. It was irritating.

Klaus turned around and approached his uninvited visitor, the steaming cup in his hand. Obviously Eroica had changed clothes before going on this absolute ridiculous journey. The blue jeans, so narrow that it left really _nothing_ to the imagination, as Klaus had to discover, and the woollen jumper, for once not red but white and not quite so skintight, suited him much better.

Or maybe he didn't redress. After all, what he had seen and experienced hadn't been real. The image was rounded up by a red winter jacket - he just had to wear something red, no matter what - and the boots with heels. No jewellery, not even one of his rings. Klaus wouldn't want to be caught dead in such clothes but he had to admit that it was an unexpected decent outfit for someone like the Earl.

"If I had known that you were still awake and could have been sure that you wouldn't just have the door thrown into my face, I would have used the bell," the ban of his existence explained, smiling. "In any case --"

Klaus shut him off with a glare. "Did you drive with your car?"

Eroica looked confused for a moment, then shrugged. "The airport was closed because of the weather, so I had no other --"

"Of course, it has never occurred to you that there was a damn good reason why it was closed?" Klaus asked, voice low, dangerous.

"They are always overly carefully," Dorian said, shrugging. "But how do you know ... Never mind, I'm gl--"

"You blithering idiot! You're such a hopeless, insufferable, einfältiger, unberechenbarer und lebensmüder Hornochse, dass es --"

"Excuse me, Major, but did you just compare me with a cow?" Dorian interrupted him.

"What?"

"Just so that I don't miss anything important. I know that my German is pretty good, but that was the first time I heard that. Normally it's just Homo, Idiot, Vollidiot, Perverser, Blödman, ... and I think we covered a large part of the fauna as well already. I'm sure there was more, though. What was the other one again? _Liebling_?"

"You degenerate! I never said something like that to you! And it was an ox, not a cow. It means you're an idiot. An oaf! But even that is an insult against these animals, so I'm taking it back. Kam--."

"Easy, Major. I was just making a joke."

"You are not funny."

"Quite obviously not. Our humour seems to be another thing were we prove to be incompatible. Not much of a surprise, is it?" For a moment Klaus was sure that he saw and heard a crack in the cheerful facade. "Anyway, I just wanted to see how you are doing. You gave us, me, quite a fright. But seeing that you can still insult me, you must feel better already, _darling_."

"I'm well enough," Klaus growled. "That still doesn't change the fact that you're even more of a moron than I thought. Only an idiot would drive in such weather! You could have got yourself killed!"

After half a second of what could only be described as stunned silence, Eroica laughed. "Carefully, Major. I could think that you were worried about me. And I'm pretty sure you don't want for me to start seeing your insults as lovingly uttered pet names for me."

"Only a wanker like you could say something like that. The only thing even more pathetic is that you're probably serious."

"As long as it comes fro--"

"What's your grandmother's name?"

The thief looked at least as stunned as Klaus felt in this very moment. It was not a question Klaus had planned to ask. But since it was out already, he could just as well wait for the answer. Besides, it gave him something to focus on, something else than that what that wretched ... whatever it had been, had dragged into the light after he had so carefully buried it for so long.

Eroica raised an eyebrow. "Why do you want to know that? Are you sure that you're all right?"

"Just tell me."

"Which one? My mother's mo--"

"The other one."

"Countess Blythe Avena Gloria, but she died already when I was very young, so I really don't see what she has to do with my visit here now, or with you, or anyth--"

Klaus shoved the cup nearly in his face. "Drink. I don't have tea, so be happy with that."

Dorian's eyes widened. "Is that an invitation, Major?"

Bloody idiot! Did he really need to get everything spelled out? It was quite exaggerating. And embarrassing. Not that Klaus was going to admit _that_. "If you want to go, there's the door. Maybe this time you'll even manage to kill yourself."

Dorian made a pacifying movement with his hands. "Not at all, Major. But you can't blame me for being a bit surprised. Normally you would have screamed at me already, then punched me, or, seeing that this might be a bit difficult right now, threatened me with arrest."

"I can still do all of that if that's what you want."

"No, not necessary. As I said, I'm just a bit surprised, most positively, I assure you. But seeing that it was most likely your coffee, do you want me to help you making another one?"

"I'm not an invalid. I got hit in the chest, not in my hands or legs," Klaus snapped and, to prove that he was serious, returned to the counter, fetched another cup and opened the coffee box once more.

"Well, most people would consider that serious enough to stay in the hospital."

Klaus felt the thin metal of the top slowly bending under his grasp. "I'm not most people! And it was just a graze."

"Of course you are not like most other people. That's one of the reasons I love you so very much instead of _most other people_ , my dear Major," the thief said, not only purring, but even daring to bat his eyelashes!

"Does everybody in your family talk so much rubbish?" Klaus asked, trying to keep his voice even. It wasn't easy. From the first moment they had met, Eroica always had had the infuriating talent to bring out the worst in Klaus, sometimes without even trying very hard. He thought he saw a flash of pain in the blue eyes, but before he could be sure, it had already passed.

"You should talk to one of them if you want to know that. Or maybe not."

" _Been there, done that_ ", Klaus thought, grimly, somehow managing to screw on the barely visible warped top again and filling his cup with steaming water. Unconsciously, he breathed in the familiar scent, allowed for the aroma to calm his nerves.

"Pardon me?" Dorian asked, giving Klaus the chilling realisation that he must have said out aloud the last.

"Nothing," he just said, then, with his own cup, passed a clearly confused Eroica. He didn't look back to see if the other man followed him. There was just no way that Earl Dorian Red Gloria would let such an open invitation to be a pain in the arse pass.

Klaus sighed inwardly as he entered the living room and went straight for the couch. Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital, seeing that he not only had invited the ban of his existence, but had even offered him coffee. Maybe the penetrative power of the bullet had screwed up his mind instead of inflicting the damage to his body. Something like a new secret weapon, developed to cause temporary insanity. It certainly would explain a lot...

"No offence, Major, but --"

 

"Then don't say anything," Klaus said, curtly, before he sat down on the couch. Lord Gloria was still standing in the corridor that led to the living room, steaming cup in one, a package in the other hand. Klaus quite liked the confused-lost look on the thief, he decided, especially when it meant the other man wouldn't talk.

"But are you really sure that leaving the hospital was such a good idea? You're acting a bit ... peculiar."

"And you are talking nonsense again."

Dorian came to a halt in the doorframe of the living room, not making another move either in or out. "Maybe I should go now that I could convince myself that you are well. For a man with a hole in his chest anyway."

"I don't have a hole in my chest, but suit yourself."

"Oh yes, before I forget it. Merry Christmas, Major," he said, then came closer, a small package in his hand.

For a moment, Klaus looked at it, took in the green wrapping and the gold bow at the top. "Did you steal it? If yes, then I don't want it."

"Oh please, Major. I don't steal everything. And it's nothing that will embarrass you either, I promise."

"We have a different understanding in that as well, as the past has proven already."

"Fair enough," Dorian said, laughing good-naturedly. "But not this time. It's neither something perverted, nor stolen, nor anything else. In fact, I think you might like it. I would even go so far to say that it is perfect for you. You could take at least a look at it," he said, then put the small parcel carefully in front of Klaus on the table.

Klaus took it and turned it in his hands, almost hesitant. When he became aware of the set of blue eyes that were still fixed on him, he ripped it open, suddenly very annoyed with himself. One shot, some strange dreams and he barely recognized himself anymore! Damn those terrorists! Damn those idiots in the hospital, damn those ghosts (or his imagination, he was still undecided of that, or that was at least what he tried to tell himself) and damn that annoying thief in front of him, who was watching him with an excitement as if somebody had just promised him free entrance to the Louvre, with no alarm or even guards for a night.

He just wanted to say something along that line when the green wrapping came off and his eyes fell onto the front cover of the small book, which portrayed a tank. Not a photo, but drawn and that skilfully, that much even Klaus could see. He had no problems identifying the image as the LK.II. The Strv m/21-29 to be precise, like the one his grandfather had shown him in the tank museum in Munster when he was still a boy, while he had told him the story about Generaloberst Heinz Wilhelm Guderian who drove it during his visit to Sweden in 1929.

Klaus opened the book. The inside was similar. The most important tanks throughout time and history, all hand drawn with a good eye for detail, followed by brief explanations in both, German and English. It was ... exceptional.

"Look at the last page." Klaus looked up, somehow dazed. For the moment he had been so absorbed in the book that he had completely forgotten about his visitor. A mistake that could be deadly in his profession and the wrong situation. But not here, at least not for his life, Klaus realized, not for the first time either, and relaxed very slightly. He skipped through the pages until he reached the last one. And there, in all its glory, was the Leopard B-1. The image was slightly bigger than the rest of the illustrations since there was no text. "It's not obvious in the image, but it is an authentic painting, created with the real one as model."

"It's ... remarkable," Klaus finally managed to say. "I have never heard about such a book." Which meant something seeing his growing up and interest. There was not much he didn't know in the field of tanks. He had fallen in love with tanks the moment he had seen his first, a magnificent giant that let fade everything around it.

"I'm not surprised. It's the only one of its kind."

There was no name on either the front, nor on the back cover. "Who did it?" Klaus asked, closing the book.

Dorian smiled, pleased. "It was a collaboration. Well, mostly the work of a friend who owned me a favour. I'm an art collector, not an artist. My job kept me too busy as that I could draw regularly or even could call myself an artist, so I mostly gave directions. But that Leopard is mine. The lines are a bit irregularly at times, but otherwise I daresay that it turned out just fine."

"It's ... very good." It was an understatement, really. Not that Klaus understood much about art, but to him this was a very good painting.

"So you like it?" The Earl actually sounded nervous.

Klaus nodded, absolutely not sure what to say or how to react, what could be appropriate for the rather strange situation and considering the unusual gift. How much work had gone into it? "I do. A lot. But ... why?"

The Earl shrugged. "That should be obvious. But since you don't like that option and since I don't like to fight on Christmas, certainly not now, just see it as a get-well-soon present, or maybe just as an attempt to make up for, well, whatever I did wrong whenever. Or maybe I just like to make presents on such a special holiday. Each reason is as good as the other," he said, clearly satisfied with himself. Or maybe with Klaus' reaction. Not that it was important.

For a moment longer their eyes kept locked. The range of emotions the blue eyes reflected in that short time was amazing. Finally Eroica shook his head, breaking the spell. "I should go as long as the good mood lasts, before I start to outstay my welcome. I'm not really used to being that close to you without you screaming at me. I'm bound to annoy you any time now," the thief said with a smile that didn't feel quite as bright as it was obviously supposed to be. "I'm really relieved to see that you're well. But please take care of yourself, my dear Major. I'm not sure how many more such calls my poor heart can take before it gives in and _I_ end up in the hospital."

The thief had already turned around, so fast that the curls that would look ridiculous on any other man fluttered after him like some absurd yellow veil, when Klaus woke up from his stupor. His eyes narrowed at the last word. "Do you know a Stephenson? A Robert Stephenson, Lord Gloria?" He felt silly just thinking the question, even more asking it, but it was one of the things he needed to know. Better safe than sorry and all that ridiculous bullshit. Besides, after his experiences today, it could hardly get any worse.

"Your questions are becoming a tad disturbing, Major," Eroica said after he had turned around to Klaus again, gaze wary. "What did I do to have the doubtful pleasure of my life being so completely dissected by you? Is it some NATO order?"

"What makes you think that?" Klaus asked, swallowing the _idiot_ he would normally add, since it was more a habit than anything else, just as it had been for quite a long time already.

"Because you never even liked to pay attention to me beyond that I could interfere in your missions, even less to my surroundings or the people around me. Asking such bizarre questions about long dead family members and my doctor isn't like you. If that should have changed now, I should probably return you to the hospital or at least call a doctor."

"So he is your doctor?"

Dorian shook his head and sighed in resignation. "Peter Stephenson is. He has been the doctor for my family since I can think, like his father before him. Robert is his son. We played together when we were children. But why do you--"

"Change him."

The blue eyes widened in bewilderment. "What?"

Klaus shrugged. "Get a new doctor," he said with a casualty that he didn't really feel but from which he hoped that it conveyed the air of a man who just knew that his orders would be followed. Like it was. At least when it didn't involve him being shot, visited by ghosts and having to deal with such a situation. Considering the circumstances, he was doing surprisingly well, he thought. "You should ask your new doctor to check your ears, too. Your hearing seems to deteriorate."

"You have hit your head when you got shot, haven't you, Major?" Eroica asked, worry and shock letting his voice become a nuance higher. It was a familiar development, one of the things he had picked up about the other man during the years. Had been _forced_ to pick up.

"No. Everything is fine with my head." That's what he hoped at least.

Lord Gloria gave him a clear 'I doubt it' gaze, then shook his head tersely. "My family stretched it already, but I really don't see how my doctor could be of your concern, so ..."

"Just do it."

"Don't mistake my feelings for you with a willingness to do everything you want, Major. I never did it before and I won't start now, certainly not when it comes to something ridiculous like this, not without a very good reason. The few times I actually saw him, he proved to be a very skilled doctor and I'm inclined to keep him as long as he fulfils his duty to my satisfaction," Eroica said, tersely. "Maybe you should think about returning to the hospital after all, because you really don't seem to be yourself tonight."

Klaus' eyes narrowed. Such an idiot! How dared he? Klaus took a last sip from his coffee, then put the cup onto the table and carefully came to his feet. He swallowed the groan as the movement caused the wound in his chest to throb. It didn't really hurt, thanks to the painkillers, but was nevertheless annoying. Even more than the gaze that scrutinised him, or the intense mix of emotions that burned in the blue eyes.

"Major?"

"You will never listen and that is what always gets you in trouble. I tell you to stay away from me, yet I only need to turn around and there you are, causing problems," Klaus said, not even trying to hide his irritation. Not that it would make a difference either way. It never really did. Screaming and threatening sometimes caused the other to shut up, for some time at least, but that was it already. Not that it had stopped Klaus from trying.

There was a flash of confusion in the other's gaze, then the thief shook his head. "I assure you that I wasn't even anywhere near you when you got shot, Major. And I helped you and NATO often enough as well, so I can't be quite as ineffectual as you like to claim," Eroica said, not quite yet snapping.

Anger lit his eyes in an interesting way, Klaus discovered, not for the first time either, then repressed the thought before he could dwell on it any longer or, even worse, let it develop into something else. He stopped not even an arms length from the thief away, supporting himself on the chest of drawers. "And often enough got you or your men in such trouble that we had to save you and risk my mission in the progress. You're untrustworthy and reckless."

"So you keep saying and I ignoring. However, I still can't see what that has to do with your strange questions and demands, Major, especially not just what interest you could have in my doctor or why do you see it necessary to involve my grandmother. And I would welcome it, if you'd --"

"Do you know what annoys me most? Apart from you never listening?"

"Let me guess. That I came here? That I was worried? My clothes?" Eroica asked, somehow managing to sound bored and annoyed at the same time, so giving his voice exactly that note of arrogance that drove Klaus up the wall like nothing else. At least in the past, until he had realized that it only showed up in specific situations, mainly when the thief felt insecure. It had been a delightful discovery, which had allowed Klaus to have quite a bit fun with the thief. "Or that I love you?"

"Apart from that," Klaus said.

"My hair? The wrapping paper? My existence? The way I drink? What is it this time?" When Klaus didn't answer immediately, he continued, "The game is getting boring, Major. I should just go, so that you can rest. Maybe you'll feel better after a few hours of sleep. I could do with some sleep as well after the long drive. I will just call you tomorrow, before I leave for Eng--"

"That you can never shut up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You can never keep your mouth shut. No matter where or what or who is there, you just have to blather. On and on and on, about your idiotic ideas about beauty, love and romance. Of course, only if you have run out of other means to show off. You would do everything for attention - stealing, running around in your ridiculous clothes, flirting with everything that is male and has two legs, no matter the situation or who, no matter how dangerous he might be or what other people tell you. Not to forget your little games with death. You're so reckless it's a wonder that you're still alive." Klaus stopped to catch his breath and to get the sudden surge of anger back under control.

The wide blue eyes, clearly stunned, didn't help much in the later. If anything at all, it made him even angrier. At least he had managed to shock the thief into silence. It was a small solace. "You're always doing your best to embarrass yourself and everybody around you, not even caring what people might think! You're ...," Klaus searched for the right words. "... such a hopeless ... and _leichtfertig Dummkopf_ , it's ... ah, fuck it! You won't understand it anyway. You never did," he ended, then took the last step forward.

He could never have said just why or how it happened, what demon had possessed him, but suddenly his hands were buried in the annoying mass of blond curls, his fingers entangled in thick strands of soft hair. Before he had a chance to wrap his mind around the insanity that not only unfolded here, but obviously had clouded his mind enough to initiate it, his lips had found their goal and were pressing against Eroica's.

Insane.

Soft.

It were the only thoughts that somehow managed to surface in the chaos that were his emotions. He needed a moment before the temporary daze -- clearly shock-induced the last rational part of him told him -- left him and he became aware that Eroica hadn't moved or even reacted in any way. Motionless, almost like one of the statues he was so fond of, he stood before Klaus, eyes extraordinarily wide, fixed on him, not even blinking.

For some reason Eroica's reaction, or better the lack of it, didn't ease Klaus frustration even one bit and only edged him on. How dared that degenerate? Now that they were here, that Klaus granted him what he'd claimed to desire for years, that was all the reaction he could muster?

"What ... are you doing?" the thief finally pressed out, voice rough and uncertain.

"Making you shut up," Klaus growled. No reaction. This wouldn't do at all. And then, quite deliberately this time, he kissed the other man again, first carefully, not really sure after all what he was doing and, more importantly, _why_ , then, deciding to ignore the nagging question just why it didn't feel as wrong as it should, let his tongue wander about Eroica's lips.

The surprised gasp came just at the right moment. "Maj--" Before that annoying thief could finish his "Major" and whatever rubbish would certainly follow, Klaus let his tongue slip into the other's mouth, shutting him off quite effectively. It was not a planned action and Klaus couldn't say that he had many experiences in that area, but he was not an idiot either. Besides, it just felt right and that was all that mattered right now. That, and to deal with the irritating and unbecoming mix of anger and ... the rest, that what he really didn't want to think about, which had welled up already hours ago and was now boiling within him.

He felt the other man shift under his attention, but first reacted, when he was almost forcefully pushed away. Reluctantly, Klaus allowed the separation. "What?" he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance at the interruption.

"As much as I enjoy this, we, you, shouldn't do this, Major. You are clearly not yourself this evening, and will probably want to kill me once you realize what happened. And as much as I love you, I'm--"

"An idiot. That is what you are! I know exactly what I'm doing." Klaus wasn't too sure about that, but it certainly wasn't something he felt inclined to share with Eroica. Certainly not now. Before the thief could recover from that retort, Klaus lips were again on Eroica's, kissing him once, softly, before retreating again. Not much, just enough that he could look at the other man.

For the split of a second all the contact he allowed himself, was a feather light touch at the other's cheeks that permitted him to feel and to observe. A connection that let him see the smallest reaction of the other man, like the confused gaze that let his blue eyes appear even bluer, and the faint lines around his eyes, the only sign that not even Lord Gloria was immune to aging. It was an opportunity to get a glimpse of him on this entirely new level, and maybe to regain some resemblance of the control he usually possessed. It was hopeless, of course. The closeness to the thief drove him even crazier than normally already.

Like normally, he felt his emotions in an uproar, an indefinable mix of every feeling that existed under the sun -- Klaus was sure about that -- making it impossible to form a clear thought. But _un_ like normally, as Klaus had discovered only moments before, this time he had a way to deal with it. Other than hitting, threatening and trying to escape from that thief and his advances, that was. And it came with the very satisfying advantage of taking Eroica aback. And it was indeed gratifying seeing him so stunned, at least for the moment.

"Major, are you--" Too bad that it never lasted long. Or maybe it was just good so. Not that he would ever admit it, certainly not to Eroica, but especially after today, he was glad to hear his voice. Dorian was like an unsolicited companion that annoyed the hell out of one, but would sneak into ones life and before you realized it, you had gotten used to it.

Klaus sighed. He really, really didn't feel like arguing with that thief, even less than usually already. Of course, trust Eroica to talk even in such a situation. "Can't you shut up, just once?" He had no idea how it happened, but suddenly his hand was not only cradling the other's head, but his right arm had wrapped around the slender waist, pulling and keeping Eroica close as well as supporting himself, because as much as Klaus hated to admit it, even to himself, he had been shot and could feel it, too.

But even that annoying dull throbbing in his chest was temporary forgotten when his lips pressed once more against Eroica's. Some part of him realized that not just he had moved, but the other man as well, and that the statue from before had obviously come to life, because there was suddenly an arm around his body, much stronger than one would suspect when he saw the slender figure it was part of, supporting him. The other hand was on his face, first stroking his cheek, something Klaus hadn't known anymore since he had left childhood and which was a bit disconcerting even if not unpleasant, then moving on to his hair, caressing it.

The kiss that followed was much more intense than anything Klaus could recall ever having experienced (not that it was that difficult to achieve). Intense to the point of burning when their tongues met, engaging in a duel that while so very old seemed impossible new to Klaus, and expressed what they, what _Klaus_ , couldn't say. Not that it mattered. Klaus was long beyond words, completely focussed on the other man, on satisfying what had been awoken, and too absorbed in the moment as that he could even worry about just how right and perfect this act of perversion felt.

Eroica's half closed eyes opened as he wound his hands into the riot of curls, somehow managing it without getting tangled or to ease the kiss. The stunned shock had been replaced by a range of other emotions, all clearly reflected in the blue gaze, yet too mixed up as that Klaus could identify them. Not that he did care. Not much anyway.

For now he just wanted and _needed_ to feel, to act on the strange hunger within him that, he finally acknowledged now, had been there for a long time already, even if for the life of him he couldn't have said since when. It wasn't important. Not much was but the here and now, the feeling of drowning, which was downright frightening yet also exhilarating.

He heard a pounding heartbeat, far too fast and loud as that it could be normal, unable to decipher if it was his or Eroica's, as they shared air and drunk from each other and drove out the ghosts from the past, the present and the future, which only Klaus knew about.

The need for air came far too suddenly and was more than unwelcome, yet was one of the things not even Iron Klaus could control. Reluctantly, he withdrew slowly before he, with a last fleeting kiss on the other's lips, retreated completely.

The strange feeling of loss was a disturbing experience, to say at least, not something Klaus had ever experienced before and not even taking a step back seemed to help. He wasn't so sure anymore if anything would do.

He locked eyes with the other man and discovered that Eroica looked suitable out of it. The silence that stood between them was tense, weighing heavy, especially after the last few minutes. Yet, as much as Klaus wished to break it, he couldn't think of anything that seemed even remotely adequate. If the other man had initiated it, he would have hit him and then just stormed off. But seeing that he had been the one who'd started it, it seemed hardly a suitable action and would just make him look like a coward, which he certainly wasn't.

Besides, it wasn't what Klaus wanted either. Not anymore. In fact, for once he had no idea what he wanted. Not really.

Finally, after far too long, Eroica shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was rough, "I have no idea why you did that just now, but whatever I said before - don't return to the hospital. I like the new you."

"Will you change your doctor?"

The thief frowned. "So that was the reason? You should really work on your romantic side. You could at least pretend that you did it because you suddenly realized that I'm irresistible."

"You just have to be an idiot, don't you?" Klaus asked, glaring. Not that he was really angry. But this he knew and felt comfortable with, familiar terrain, so to speak.

Dorian shrugged, smiling. "Is there anybody else in my life you're interested in? Unfortunately, I don't have a landlord, but how about my dentist? Or my accountant? Anybody else who would warrant another kiss?"

"Don't push it." Klaus warned. Not that the warning didn't come much too late already, but it just had to be said. The other licked over his lips, eyes half closed. Klaus wasn't sure if it was subconscious or to play with him, though he almost bet on the later, and then it didn't matter anymore, because he suddenly felt himself leaning forward once more, repeating the absolute strange, terrifying and wonderful experience of feeling that full lips on his, of tasting the other man who tasted surprisingly male and not flamboyant at all, but still like a Dorian Red Gloria would taste.

It was just a short kiss, not even remotely enough, but Klaus somehow mustered the will to withdraw. "Stay for dinner," he said, grumpy, immensely relieved that his voice was firm at least.

Dorian laughed after a shock second. "That is the strangest invitation I ever got. Not that I complain," he hurried to add. "I'd love to. As long as it includes a typical German Christmas dinner and comes with desert." His eyes were sprinkling mischievously.

Klaus nodded. "Are you going to change your doctor?" he repeated his question from before.

"You kiss me and you invite me for dinner just to ensure that? Your dedication is amazing, as always. Are you going to tell me why at least?"

Klaus certainly had no plans to do so. He could just imagine Eroica's face if he asked him if he believed in ghosts. He felt silly just thinking about it. "Yes or no?"

"I doubt that Stephenson can compete with a typical German Christmas dinner, even less when I have the pleasure to get it in your company, so yes, I suppose. It's not as if I saw him much anyway."

" _Gut_."

 

"Are you sure that you don't want to trade any of the other people I've employed for another kiss? I could recommend --"

"Will you shut up if I kiss you?"

"Just one kiss? I should be hurt that you think that I'm that cheap! But of course, you could just try it ..."

"Have you ever thought about changing from thieving to acting?"

"I tried it, but they told me I'm too theatrical," Eroica said, then grinned.

"I'm not surprised," Klaus said, then, before passing the thief, kissed him once more. Not because he asked, or because there were any superior motives, but just because it felt like the right thing to do. And maybe, he thought as he led the way to the table, the day wasn't that shitty after all.

**\---The End---**


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